


Not Left To Stand Alone

by Lisa_Telramor



Series: Magic Kaito Neighbors Future AU [1]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depression, Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Future Fic, Grief/Mourning, Injury, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Recovery, SO MUCH TEA, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Starting Over, Tea, Teaching, endgame kaito/saguru, slow burn is an understatement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-03-08 13:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 171,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13459332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisa_Telramor/pseuds/Lisa_Telramor
Summary: Saguru had spent the last 16 years in London, but when his life there fell apart, moving to Japan seemed like the best option for a new start. He wasn't expecting his new neighbor to be his old classmate, Kuroba Kaito.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic in...gah, summer of 2012? Ish? Too long ago at any rate, and sort of just...stopped working on it for like a year and a half around January 2013. Since I picked it back up again, I've been working on it pretty much continuously, and after years of poking at it, I have a very long, very frustrating first draft that I will be editing and periodically posting chapters until it's all out there for people to read. You guys have no idea how relieved I am to reach this point. I don't post longfics because I seem to never finish writing them, but here you go. My first true longfic. Hope you guys find this a fun ride. It's set in a future of Magic Kaito universe, though Detective Conan characters show up later on. The original idea for this fic came from a prompt bingo list (the same list that hikago baby acquisition fic came from actually....started around the same time...) and was for the "neighbors" square. I went "in what universe would rich-boy Hakuba ever live next door to Kaito??" and of course my brain went with the angst route rather than the crack route. ^_^;;;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I know not everyone has been reading as I update, and there are extras for this story, I've created a [ masterlist on my Tumblr ](http://lisatelramor.tumblr.com/post/176929293471/not-left-to-stand-alone-master-post)with the chapters and extras in some form of chronological order... Thanks for reading :)

No matter how many times he traveled to another country, Saguru had yet to get used to the jet lag. He sank into his new desk—in the far corner of the teacher’s room right next to a window. The desk was empty except for his briefcase and two fountain pens looking lost in the wide space. He was sure in a month it would look well lived in. Desks, no matter how much one organized, never remained neat for long. He always ended up with students’ late papers or notes from colleagues in one place or another; loose pens and books stacked up until the space didn’t seem like nearly enough. He sighed, massaging his bad right leg. His knee was aching again. It looked like rain.

On the outdoor track his window overlooked a group of students ran erratically. He was sure that in a month they would be running in unison, back in proper strength and the new members adapted to the pace of the older members. Saguru stopped rubbing his knee. It wasn’t getting any less sore. Tomorrow would be his first day teaching English to Japanese high schoolers. There was a certain irony returning almost sixteen years later to Ekoda high to teach.  It was a bit strange to think that Konno-sensei was still teaching 2-B. Although she was Shizume now, not Konno. She had asked him to call her Erika. It felt a bit unreal.

Saguru sighed again. He should have stayed in England. He taught chemistry not English. He slouched in his chair. It needed a cushion. He was going to have to teach the class standing and moving from classroom to classroom for seven hours. Just one day of meetings and he was exhausted. He should have stayed in England, except there was nothing there for him anymore. Mum moved to Japan two years ago after retiring to live with Otou-san, and after his last case… He wouldn’t be taking any more cases. He probably should have left sooner.

“Hakuba-san,” another English teacher for level two classes said from the door of the staff room. He could barely see her face through the stacks of paper. It was Kate, he thought, a woman from the United States that came to teach as a college graduate and never left. She was married to the level one math teacher if he remembered the flurry of introductions correctly. Kate—no, Takata, he wasn’t in England anymore—smiled. “How’s your desk?”

“Fine.” Saguru smiled stiffly back, the muscles protesting with disuse. “The window is nice.”

Takata laughed. “Ishida-san thought you would like it. Kenta was eying it when Yumi-san left on maternity leave. I told him he wouldn’t even be able to clear his desk off before you arrived let alone move into Yumi-san’s.”

“I like the view.” He smiled a bit more genuinely, tinged with bittersweet emotions. “It’s nostalgic.”

“You used to go here, right?” Takata leaned against her desk. It had photos of cats and her husband and a four year old boy with brown hair and eyes rounder than most Japanese. She had a good looking son. Saguru hoped he wouldn’t go through the same problems Saguru had had as a mixed race child. Those had led to him spending his formative years in England rather than Japan. He had spent so much time in England even he sometimes forgot he was born in Japan and spent the first six years of his life there. Saguru tore his eyes away from the photo.

“Yes. I was in Shizume-sen—Shizume-san’s homeroom. I was only at Ekoda for around a year. My transcript says two years,” Saguru said, “but I spent much of my time in England for familial and job reasons.”

“You had an international job in high school?” Takata whistled. “Wow. Why the heck are you here teaching then?”

Saguru played with the clasp on his briefcase, lips tight. “I would prefer not to discuss the specifics of my circumstances.”

In an instant Takata was on her feet bowing. “I apologize, that was rude of me. We have plenty of time to get to know each other. I am sorry for being nosey.”

Saguru waved a hand. “No. It’s all right.” He turned away, effectively cutting the conversation short with his body language. “We have time to get to know each other more.” Outside on the track the students had taken a break. They milled together on the side of the field drinking water and laughing as one boy chased another in a circle squirting water at each other from their water bottles. He had a moment where their images overlapped with Kuroba and Aoko, the water bottles replaced with a mop and confetti bombs. He shook his head. “Thank you for your concern,” he said. “I think I will settle in fine here.”

“A-ah… I hope you do.”

He smiled, a fake, polite smile. “I should be going. There is not much I can do until I have met my students.”

“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She stepped away from his desk, trying and failing to hide her curiosity as Saguru reached for his cane. The polished wood was firm and smooth in his hand as he levered himself upright. His knee throbbed. Saguru let his breath out through his teeth and picked up his bag with his free left hand.  Maybe Otou-san was right. He should get a knee replacement. There wasn’t a guarantee that it would solve the problem though. His doctor had recommended it years ago, but he had been young and stubborn. Now he was getting on middle aged and stubborn. Thirty-four wasn’t quite middle aged was it?

Saguru blocked out the ongoing ache in the joint—compounded issues with muscles, tendons and a kneecap that had never quite healed properly after being shot—and walked as briskly as his leg allowed him for the door and the stairs to the ground floor. He wasn’t going to take an elevator, leg be damned. He wasn’t _that_ old yet. “Have a nice evening, Takata-san,” he said over his shoulder. He didn’t bow, which he really should have since she had been working there longer, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He wanted to be home and finishing his unpacking in his new apartment that he’d failed to complete the two previous days due to his body insisting he was supposed to be sleeping when the rest of Japan was awake and moving.

By the time he reached the ground floor, his leg felt all but useless, but this would be life from now on. This had been life for the last sixteen years. It took twenty minutes to get to the train where in the past it would take him ten, and then another thirty to reach his stop. The apartment where he was living was closer to the station than his father’s home. He supposed he could have returned to live there again, but the idea of living with his parents after so long had not appealed to him, and he hated how they looked upset whenever he visited. It was another twenty minute hobble from the station to the apartment building, past a small park with children playing on it, an optometrist’s office and a bakery before he reached the right building. It was a new apartment complex converted within the last decade from four shops-and-above-residence style rooms into a series of twelve livable one to two room apartments. Hakuba had rented a one room. He hadn’t brought many things. He had a desk, a kitchen, and a futon with a western-style bathroom attached to the entry way. Unfortunately it was on the first story, not the ground level.

He glared at the steps. The steps remained present and narrow. He stumped up them, knee aching every time he bent it after a full day of use and leaned on his cane as he looked for his keys. It only took a minute to unlock the door, toe off his slip-on dress shoes and barge through the entryway to toss his briefcase on his desk. Two packing boxes sat next to it and an empty suitcase that had been full of clothing. They were now hung neatly in the closet space behind his futon with non-perishable food items his mother had sent along and a box of his old case files he wasn’t sure why he took with him. He should have burned it with Mel’s body in some kind of symbolic gesture or something. He hadn’t been able to let go, and he was still mildly disgusted of himself for it. If he was going to let go he should let go completely.

His futon was still rolled out, put in some semblance of order before he left. The morning’s breakfast dishes were dry in the dish drainer. Saguru stared at them as if they held the answer to why he was in Japan teaching English when he’d never planned to return at all.

There was no real answer in a porcelain teacup, so he put the dishes away in the cupboard before turning the desk chair around and sitting.

The room’s former occupant had scorched a corner of the _tatami_ next to the stove. It was a half circle, like a black moon, from a sauce pan from the looks of it. The wall above the stove was stained with flecks of grease and sauce and he could picture someone cooking there, day after day, young and inexperienced and figuring out what worked and didn’t the hard way. He wished he could turn off his brain. Then maybe the deducing and observation would stop.

The cane slid through his loose fingers. It fell to the floor but he didn’t bother to reach for it. Saguru knew he should start dinner, but he wasn’t hungry. His knee was past the stabs of pain and had settled into the numb phase where so long as he didn’t move all he would feel was a dull tingle.

There was a noise coming from outside, a neighbor returning home. The sound of a key in a lock and a click of a door opening and shutting. Strange. The walls must be thin to make out so much sound. Saguru’s eyes slid closed. He couldn’t sleep yet. But a few minutes couldn’t hurt, right? His breathing and thoughts slowed. His knee stopped hurting as everything felt a bit disconnected from his body. Just free flowing thoughts and half-formed ideas that spun in and out of oblivion. Somewhere distant a phone rang unanswered.

Saguru was jolted into wakefulness at a loud pounding from near the entryway. He slid half out of the chair, catching himself on his bad leg and ending up on the floor anyway, swearing. The pounding continued, but not from his door. It was the neighbor’s door. It was dark now. Saguru could make out nine o’clock on the blinking LED numbers of his alarm clock. He hadn’t meant to be out that long.

“Open the damn door!” whoever was outside the neighbor’s apartment yelled—a woman. “Takumi was due home two hours ago!” She hit the door again as Saguru was searching the ground for his cane. “I don’t have to get Tou-san again do I?”

There was something familiar about her voice, Saguru thought. He staggered to his feet and clicked on the overhead light, blinking in the sudden brightness.

“Kaa-san!” a young male voice said from the neighboring apartment. “Just a minute! We lost track of time!”

“Don’t give me that. You say that every week—” Dear lord, Saguru hoped this would not be a weekly occurrence. Was that why there had been such a small down payment for the apartment? “—but you both know when you’re supposed to be home. It’s not the weekend, Takumi.”

Well, if he could hear everything anyway, he might as well be nosy. Saguru limped into the entryway and cracked open his front door. The woman’s back was to him, her hands planted on her hips with wild brown hair falling halfway down her back barely restrained by a hair elastic. The neighbor’s lock clicked and a teenager wearing the Ekoda high school uniform tumbled out, struggling to hop into his street shoes while holding his school bag in the other. Saguru had a moment of déjà vu as his door swung open out of his limp hand; he could swear he was looking at Kuroba. Perhaps a year or so younger than when Saguru had known him, but definitely Kuroba.  The boy met his eyes and looked away fast, embarrassed as his mother continued berating Saguru’s neighbor.

“You have four clocks in every room, don’t even pretend you don’t. I’ve seen them. You should have sent him home for dinner. That’s your responsibility if he stops by after class.”

“Maa, Aoko…” a male voice said from the doorway. Saguru felt chills go down his spine. There was a god laughing at him somewhere. Maliciously. Because there was no other way to explain how he ended up neighbors to Kuroba Kaito. Who apparently had a son and some sort of messy relationship with Aoko.

“Don’t you ‘Aoko’ me, Kaito, I—what’s wrong?” She glanced over her shoulder and Saguru was sure that he must have attracted the negative attention of some spirit because they were all staring at him as he stared at them. “Ha…kuba?”

Saguru blinked, shut his gaping mouth and reached for the door. “Excuse me,” the part of him that had had manners drilled into his skull said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” The door clicked shut.


	2. Chapter 2

Saguru stayed in the entryway gripping the doorknob for dear life. This could not be real. Outside the door everything was silent. A young voice asked something, wavering nervously, and Aoko answered. No one knocked on his door. A decade ago, he was sure Aoko would have. The door next door clicked shut and Saguru heard feet on the stairs going down. He relaxed his grip on the doorknob.

The mail slot near the bottom of his door squeaked open. “Hakuba, I know you’re still there,” an adult male voice said—Kuroba said.

“…Just a moment.” Saguru turned the knob and the door swung outward. Kuroba stood on the other side, dressed in a worn dress shirt and blue jeans, hands stuffed in his pockets. His hair was as wild as ever, a bit shorter than Saguru remembered. He had lines around his eyes and on his cheeks—smile lines, Mum would call them. Considering the lines in between Kaito’s eyebrows, smiling was not the only expression causing lines. Kuroba still had a boyish face despite the lines. He had aged better than Saguru had.

Kuroba lifted an eyebrow examining Saguru as completely as Saguru was examining him. His eyes lingered on Saguru’s leg and cane before coming to rest on Saguru’s hair. “You’re starting to go grey,” he said like an accusation.

Saguru lifted an eyebrow in return. “It means I’ll keep my hair in my old age,” he countered. They could have been in high school again in that moment, poking fun at each other as they each tried to catch the other with his guard down. Then the spark of mischief Kuroba had in his eyes faded. He ran a hand through his hair making it stick up further.

“So.”

“So.” Kuroba looked like he was on the verge of shutting the door and pretending the whole thing had never happened. It was tempting to let him, but Saguru, in a moment of impulse, stepped back. “Tea?”

Kuroba laughed. “Is your first answer to a problem always going to be tea?”

“I would have thought you would expect my first answer to a problem to be reaching for handcuffs,” Saguru said back wryly. He didn’t miss the slight tensing of Kuroba’s cheeks and eyes, but he ignored it, turning to enter his kitchen/living room. “You don’t have to worry about anything like that from me anymore,” Saguru said. “I don’t have slippers, so please, just take off your shoes. I haven’t been here long enough to expect guests.”

Kuroba hovered in the doorway and Saguru could feel his eyes sizing up Saguru’s back as Saguru carefully maneuvered his stiff knee up the one stair into the main portion of the apartment. The door closed and Saguru heard Kaito taking off his shoes. Saguru went to put on the kettle. He was glad now that he hadn’t bothered to put the tea away after breakfast.

“Sit down wherever you would like,” Saguru said as he clicked on the burner. He took two tea cups out of the cupboard. “Do you still take sugar in your tea? Because if you do I am afraid I am out. I haven’t bought many staples yet.” He turned around with teacups in hand. Kuroba was looking around with an unreadable expression.

“No,” he said. “I’m fine with my tea plain. Are you trying to become a monk?” Kuroba asked. “This seems way too plain for Mr. Fancy Watch and Manor House.”

Saguru smiled wryly. “I’ve gotten used to plainer accommodations over the years.” It wasn’t a lie, but the apartment was austere even by his shifted standards. It was part that he had taken the minimum amount of things with him possible, part the room’s size.

“Do you plan on living here long?” Kuroba was eying the futon like he didn’t expect to find it there. Had he expected a Western bed? While Saguru preferred a bed, it wouldn’t have been practical to get one.

“I’m not sure,” Saguru said. He set the empty cups on his desk, pushing his briefcase to the side. “I will be here for at least the school year.”

“School year?” Kuroba shot him a sharp look.

Saguru raised an eyebrow, moving to get the loose leaf tea. “I’m a teacher, Kuroba-k…san.” He felt Kuroba’s gaze intensify at the slip. He wasn’t sure what to call Kuroba now. They had never been particularly close, and now they could barely be called acquaintances for all that they had a shared history.

“What happened to being a detective?” Kuroba asked harshly.

Saguru tapped his bad leg with his cane, drawing attention to both. “This happened. It’s a bit hard to chase down crime when you can barely walk.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Have you become a magician?”

Kuroba flinched and looked away. “Nah. That didn’t work out. A lot of things didn’t work out.”

It was too depressing in here, Saguru thought. He willed the kettle to heat faster. Tea would make things a bit less awkward. “I’m teaching English at Ekoda High,” Saguru said. “One of the teachers is on maternity leave for the next year. I’ll be on staff at least that long. I’m not sure if I will try to stay longer or not.”

“…I work at a museum now,” Kuroba said. “Conservation. I keep things from crumbling to dust and make replicas if they need them.”

“If you’re a conservator, why on earth are you living in such terrible accommodations?” Saguru asked. “Surely it pays more than what I’m being paid.”

Kuroba laughed. “It’s close to Takumi’s school and I can afford it, child support, and to add to Takumi’s college fund at the same time. Why aren’t you living with your parents?”

“It’s too far from the school for me to manage and can you imagine moving back in with your mother?” Kuroba shuddered at the idea. Saguru smirked. “Exactly. I’ll take a small apartment with my limited budget than living at my parents’ expense.”

The kettle whistled and Saguru plucked it from the stove. He plopped the tea into it and let it sit for a minute before holding the strainer over each cup and pouring the tea through.  The kettle went back on the stove with the heat turned off and the strainer went in the sink. He’d clean it later. Kuroba finally seemed to relax. He made himself comfortable on Saguru’s floor as Saguru offered him a teacup.

“It’s black tea,” Saguru said. “I am not sure where I packed the green tea.”

“It’s fine,” Kuroba said taking a sip. His eyes went half lidded with contentment, hands cupping the hot porcelain like they needed the warmth. Saguru watched him a moment then set his own teacup back on the desk.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking the chair,” Saguru said, easing himself into the seat.  He swore he could hear his knee creak.

“I figured you would need it with your leg.”

They sipped their tea and the LED clock next to his futon counted up the minutes. Nine thirty-four… five… six.  “So,” Saguru said.

“So,” Kuroba echoed with a sigh. He rested the teacup on his knee. “The divorce was mostly amicable,” he said. “She got custody but I get Takumi on weekends. He can visit whenever he wants provided he sticks to his curfew.” He twisted the cup around in one hand, watching the tea shift. “Ah. Aoko and I got married about a couple months after we graduated high school. You were already back in England then. We were kind of in a rush.” He coughed. “Um. Takumi was born about six months later.”

Saguru took a sip of his tea to cover his surprise. Well, that was one reason to rush into a marriage.

“We figured we were going to get married eventually anyway,” Kuroba said. He stared blankly at the depths of his teacup. “And we had been friends since forever... Nothing really turned out how we planned.”

Saguru watched Kuroba’s expression closely. It was a mask, like KID’s only without the smile. “When did you tell her?” he asked finally.

Kuroba’s hand twitched, sloshing tea that miraculously remained in the cup. No expression showed on his face. Saguru set his tea aside and laced his fingers together. He hated that he had guessed right.

“I’m sorry she took it poorly,” Saguru said. “I always thought she would stay by your side in the end.”

Kuroba’s hand was shaking, not much, just enough to send ripples along the surface of the tea. Saguru wondered if it meant Kuroba was restraining tears, anger, or fear. The tea stilled. “Takumi was four,” Kuroba said finally. No pretending he didn’t know what Saguru was hinting at or protestations that he wasn’t Kid. Acceptance.

“That’s unfortunate.”

“He doesn’t know anything about it.”

“It’s probably better that way,” Saguru said, though he wondered.

“Probably.” Kuroba laughed hollowly. “Watch, he’ll be like me and find out—” He choked off, torn between upset and grim amusement.

Saguru looked away. It was unsettling to see Kuroba show his emotions so easily. “I was shot four months after graduation,” he said changing the topic. “It was a sniper. I don’t know why he shot out my knee rather than going for a killing shot, but I wasn’t able to find out much about who did it after.” He picked up the tea cup again as much to warm his hands and chase away the memory of bleeding out on a London side street as to drink it. He took a sip, the dark, bitter flavor shoring him up and blocking out the past. “I spent four months healing and four more in rehabilitation just to be able to walk as much as I can now. I should have gotten a knee replacement or even an amputation—there was an infection, they almost did amputate my leg… I thought I could overcome it like I overcame everything else.” He laughed darkly. “I tried to go back into detective work and almost got killed trying to trail a suspect. I couldn’t handle the kinds of cases I used to take.”

“So you gave up?” Kuroba asked sharply. He glared over his teacup like Saguru’s retirement as a detective was a personal offense. Maybe to Kaitou Kid, one of his detectives giving up was a personal offense. Saguru smiled.

“No. I went to college and continued taking small cases on the side. Ones that didn’t require a lot of investigative work and had minimal danger involved. I even worked with the police at times helping direct investigations, but it wasn’t a job I would be able to live off of. I decided to go into teaching. I thought I could make an impact that way. Teach children how to be more observational and maybe find some that could be promising detectives someday.” He frowned at his cup, tracing the floral pattern along its side. “I became a chemistry teacher and taught for a while. I continued taking small cases on the side…moved in with someone…got married...” He took a swallow of tea, pretending he didn’t see Kuroba’s eyebrows going up. “Then I messed up.”

“Messed up how?”

“I took a case I shouldn’t have,” Saguru said. “And I lost someone important to me.”

 “Oh.” Kuroba looked away. “Um… you wouldn’t happen to have something stronger than tea would you? Because this conversation is starting to need it.”

Saguru snorted. He looked away quickly to hide wiping his eyes. “I’m afraid tea is the strongest thing I have here.”

“Hmm, well I know not to go to your place to party,” Kuroba said, and Saguru wondered why he hadn’t made an effort to be friends with Kuroba earlier. If he’d made it clear that he was on Kuroba’s side against the snipers he’d noticed…if he had been less prideful and self-absorbed… He still wouldn’t have gotten close to Kuroba because Kuroba kept people out. And a younger Saguru would have felt morally bound to convince Kuroba to turn himself in. Morals were less absolute than they once were.

Saguru set the remnants of his tea aside. It was cold now. “Your son’s in first year?”

“Yeah,” Kuroba grinned. “He’s a lot like I was only _law abiding_. I taught him magic when he was younger, but he uses it to flirt. I take a walk with him and he conjures a flower for every pretty girl we pass.” He rolled his eyes. “I was never that bad was I?”

Saguru grinned. “I can remember you begging chocolate from every girl in class. Including Koizumi-san. And conjuring flowers for your moonlit fans.”

“Pssh. Class was a matter of chocolate. No flirting about it.”

“Mm hmm, which is why you fawned over Anzu-chan until she gave you her chocolate even though she was saving it for Ueda-kun.”

Kuroba grinned, looking truly relaxed for the first time that night. He drained his teacup. “Who knew you had a sense of humor?”

“I think we were too busy actively aggravating each other as teens,” Saguru said. “I’m going to be your son’s English teacher.” He was terrified by the thought. “You say he’s not as bad as you?”

“Oh, I didn’t say that.” Kuroba set the teacup aside and sprawled back on his elbows. “I said he was law abiding. There’s a difference.”

“I’ll pack stain cleaner and an air horn to get the class’s attention.”

“I can’t believe you’re a teacher.” Kuroba poked him in his good leg with a sock-clad toe.  “Do you scare them into listening? Out sarcasm them?”

“I treat them like they have working brains.” Saguru pushed Kuroba’s foot aside with his own and winced as the change in position put pressure on his bad leg. Something in Kuroba’s expression shuttered. “I remember how frustrating it was to be treated like an idiot.”

“A lot of them _are_ idiots.”

“Mm. But the ones who aren’t appreciate the effort.” He sat straighter, pulling himself out of Kuroba’s range. “Can I get you more tea?”

“Nah. I’m fine.” Kuroba was staring again. Saguru wondered what he found. “It’s good to see you,” he said finally.

“Same.” Not for the first time, Saguru wondered if he should have stayed in contact somehow. He had never stopped reading about Kid’s appearances in the paper. Each near miss with snipers or the police had worried him. He used to read an imported paper every morning to see if Kid was in it and Mel would—. He cut that thought off before he could take it further. He didn’t want to remember. That was why he was in Japan. Saguru realized he had been silent too long. Kuroba was looking at him worriedly. He smiled thinly, and it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It...has been a busy last few days. Jet lag isn’t as easy to get over as it used to be.”

“I can imagine.” Kuroba rolled to his feet like the gymnast he practically was. “I should let you get rest. Tomorrow’s going to be hell.”

“First days always are.” Saguru sighed and levered himself out of the chair. He kept his face blank as he leaned heavier than normal on the cane. Kuroba put the teacup in the sink without comment. He let Saguru lead him to the door and open it.

Saguru leaned on the doorway as Kuroba slipped on his shoes. “I noticed there’s a Kid heist Wednesday.”

“Mm.” Kuroba didn’t give anything away in his expression, but Saguru could read the slight tension in Kuroba’s shoulders as easily as he had when they were in high school.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Saguru said.

Kuroba looked up from his shoes, eyes wide. “No veiled threats?”

“I think we’ve grown past those.” Kuroba put his weight on his toes and curled upward more than he stood. Saguru was a bit jealous of his ease of motion. A thirty-four year old man had no right to be that limber. “I’m not with the police anymore. If you ever need any help, I’m offering.”

“Okay where is Hakuba and what have you done with him?”

Saguru smirked. “I’m sincere, Kuroba-san. Think of it as a long overdue offer of friendship.” He offered a hand, Western style.

Kuroba stared at it. A slow smile filled his face. “You’re insane, Hakuba,” he said, but he took Saguru’s hand and shook it. “And call me Kuroba. Hearing you add ‘san’ to my name feels weird.”

“Good. Kuroba.” Saguru felt something close to when he used to chase Kid, a thrill. Maybe it wasn’t just chasing Kid that caused it back then. He’d enjoyed competing with him as much as Kid. Offering his help felt risky and impulsive and made him feel more alive than he’d felt in months.

“As neighbors we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” Kuroba said. “If you ever need anything I’m a knock away.”

“Of course.” Saguru let go of Kuroba’s hand. “Good night, Kuroba.”

“Night.” He grinned. “I’m bringing something stronger than tea if we ever have another chat about the past.”

Saguru watched him unlock his door in a flourish of keys. His leg ached, he still hadn’t unpacked everything properly, and he was probably going to have a first day from hell tomorrow, but it was a little brighter having someone he knew nearby. Perhaps, despite everything, they could even become friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, new plan. I am further ahead in editing than anticipated, so as long as I have a 5+ chapter buffer going, updates are weekly. If I fall behind that buffer, then it goes back to every other week until that buffer is restored, just to be on the safe side. These first couple chapters are fairly short, but the length gets longer as it goes on. Thanks for the positive feedback so far, guys ^_^ It made my week.


	3. Chapter 3

Saguru stared down his homeroom class and they stared back, whispering under their breaths. Most of them were bright eyed with curiosity; Saguru was a new face and they were in a new school. Others... He could picture what was going through their heads. Foreigner. Cripple. _Not even a proper foreigner_ , Saguru thought with a wry twist of his lips. And among the lot of them was Kuroba Takumi, looking at him with a focus that bordered rudeness. How had Aoko explained Saguru last night?

Saguru made eye contact and Takumi kept staring, now blatantly rude. Well. He was going to have his hands full wasn’t he? Saguru gripped his cane and braced himself for a long, trying day.

“Good morning,” Saguru said in a firm voice that had the class falling silent in moments. “I am Hakuba Saguru and I will be your homeroom and English teacher. Let’s have a good year.”

As he went through the morning process of taking attendance, choosing class representatives and assigning tasks, he kept an eye out for how thing were being received. Most of the class relaxed with familiar routine. Takumi remained attentive in the corner of his eye.

“Now, before we get on to English class, are there any questions?”

Two hands shot up.

“Yes, Honda-kun?”

“Are you really from England?” Honda asked.

“Yes, I lived in London most of my life, though I spent several years here in Japan as well.” Saguru looked at the second hand. Takumi lowered it as Saguru looked at him.

“Is it true that you used to go to school here?” Takumi asked.

“I did,” Saguru said. “I attended Ekoda High for a year and a half.” That got some soft murmurs through the class. “Now, are there any questions related to school?” No one raised their hand. “Then I guess we’ll move on to class.”

Saguru had been given lesson guides used by his predecessor to give an idea of where the students should be at, but he had written most of the lesson plans from the ground up. He wasn’t an English teacher; Saguru had been a Chemistry teacher for over a decade, but he hoped he’d managed to come up with lessons that were simple to grasp and engaging enough to keep his students occupied. Today was attempting to get an idea about where his students were at with their reading comprehension and speaking and he would build from there.

Things were going smoothly until about fifteen minutes into class. If he hadn’t been keeping an eye on Takumi, he would have missed Takumi palming a small object five minutes into English class. Because he was looking for it, Saguru wasn’t the least bit surprised when a confetti bomb went off over his head halfway through writing a sentence on the board.

The class erupted into giggles. Saguru set down the chalk and turned around, brushing bits of paper off his shoulders. Takumi looked innocent, the same slightly nervous laughter present on his face as the rest of the class. Saguru raised an eyebrow and the class went quiet. “Well. I suppose now is as good a time as any to say that I have a three mark system when it comes to classroom disruptions. If I see disruptive behavior, the persons involved get one mark. If you get three marks, there will be disciplinary action. If you get three marks, you can do an additional homework sheet to reset your marks to zero.” Saguru let his eyes sweep the room, settling briefly on Takumi. It felt a little bit nostalgic seeing Takumi sit up straighter, a bit like facing down Kuroba again, but with authority to back up what he said for once. He couldn’t prove it had been Takumi today, but he would be sure to pay closer attention in the future to call out any other pranks. At the very least, it was unlikely any other students would carry magician’s tools on their person.

“Kuroba-kun,” Saguru said, continuing on with class as if nothing had happened. “Please read the next sentence.”

Takumi flushed as he stammered through it. His pronunciation was poor and his reading comprehension seemed below average. Clearly he didn’t share Kuroba’s ability with languages, though perhaps Saguru was being too harsh. Kuroba’s English pronunciations had been less than fluent as a second year as well. He looked up at Saguru when he finished, a defiant glint in his eye that brought out Aoko’s features in his face; the shape of his chin and jut of his jaw as he grit his teeth.  Saguru met his eyes for a beat, understanding passing between them that Saguru knew who had thrown that confetti bomb and that he wasn’t someone who would be pushed around by a prank.

Saguru let his eyes slide to Takumi’s neighbor. “Harada-chan, the next sentence, please.” The class continued without a hitch from there. It was a bit too much to hope that the rest of the day would go smoothly. Takumi might not have acted out again, but there were two students in his later classes who were introduced to his three mark system.

Teaching was different in Japan. On one hand, most students tried to keep from being noticed. On the other, casual whispering during lessons or sleeping during class wouldn't be acceptable in London. Saguru was approaching it from what remembered of his own Japanese high school experience. Something that interrupted the entire flow of class or disrupted the ability of students trying to learn would be classified as behavior to get marks. If students kept sleeping, he’d talk to them about it, but it was really only inconveniencing the sleeper. It would be a challenge to find a balance here, a balance that wasn’t the one he’d had in London, just like it would be a challenge to teach a subject he wasn’t familiar with teaching. With any luck it would keep him too busy to think about much else.

For the first day though, it felt like approaching a mountain that he would have to climb. The year stretched before him as one large trial where a single misstep could send him falling back into the mess he’d been before he’d convinced himself to move halfway around the world.

By lunch, his energy was waning and his desk in the teacher’s room held a siren’s song for his aching knee. Saguru collapsed into it with a heavy sigh. He pressed hands against his face for a moment, letting tension ease from him.

A soft clack came from his right. A cup of tea.

Takata Kate smiled, her own cup in hand. “You seem to be holding up ok,” she said. “And your students sound interested in what you’ll be like as a teacher from what I’ve overheard in the halls.”

“I’m sure they are.” He sat up, wincing as he worked his bad leg slowly. “I’m sure they’ll be testing me to see what sort of person I am and cursing my assignments by the end of the week.”

Takata smiled sympathetically. “The same thing happened to me before I got settled in here. All the more when they see a Western face and don’t know what to expect. But things will calm down once you get into the swing of it.”

“They always do, don’t they?” Steam curled from the rim of the teacup. He reached for it, the warm porcelain relaxing him further. “Thank you. You didn’t need to go to the trouble.”

“It’s no trouble.” She smiled, leaning against her desk across from his. It was all neat piles of papers and tiny collections of odds and ends that made it look more personal and lived in than Saguru’s current apartment was. “And thank you for helping move chairs for the opening ceremony even with your leg.”

He shrugged the thanks off. He’d be feeling it in the latter half of the day, but he took a sip of tea, putting it out of his mind. The door to the teacher room opened, more people arriving to take their break. Takata turned away.

“Talk to you later, Hakuba-san,” she said before making her way across the room.

Saguru nodded in response, too late for her to see it. She walked up to a man—her husband?—and Saguru focused back on the tea in his hands. Black tea, high in caffeine and just how he liked it without sugar or milk. Warm and familiar. He drank half the cup before setting it down. There were grooves on the surface of the desk—some looked like marks from a paperweight tossed down too quickly, others perhaps from the edge of a photo frame dragged across the desk frequently. Like the previous owner had the habit of constantly checking it or changing out the picture. There were things that could be drawn about that, like the conclusion that Yumi-sensei was likely a hurried person, but also a sentimental one. There was an umbrella doodled on the inside of one of the drawers with her name and presumably the name of her husband. Not someone who was uptight about defacing objects, and clearly caught in young love. It would have been touching if it didn’t rub against the raw spot in him still reeling with grief.

He pulled out the lunch he’d put together that morning, a sandwich and wilting salad. Nothing special or elaborate. He had never been anything more than a passable cook, and he hadn’t been the one to cook most of the last decade.

Out the window Saguru could see students eating outdoors and enjoying the spring weather as much as they could. Saguru didn’t remember being allowed to eat outside. He had always eaten in homeroom, or if not there, on the roof while observing Kuroba from afar. In retrospect, he probably hadn’t been allowed there either.

The sandwich tasted like mayonnaise and cheap tinned chicken. He’d forgotten to add onion or celery or anything else to give it flavor. He ate it anyway, chewing without enthusiasm. The desk was too big, too empty and blank and still compared to the desks around him, just a small pile of papers in the corner and the records for his homeroom class. He would have to do home visits at some point. Would he go to Aoko or Kuroba for Takumi’s visit? The salad went down less easily than the sandwich, plain lettuce sticking in his throat as he tried to swallow around his mouth’s sudden dryness. Mel had been a better cook. Saguru never had the patience to experiment with new recipes or the inspiration to try different flavor combinations.

The tea, when he finished it, had gone cold.

***

The classes after lunch were better behaved than the ones before, perhaps due to a warning from fellow classmates. Perhaps because they were actually better behaved than the rest of their year mates. Saguru was not very optimistic about that. The last class, rather than fixating on his foreignness, had stared at his bad leg. Granted, he was relying on his cane heavily by that point and his leg was shaking with the strain of remaining standing. If he were in London he would have taken a moment to rest his leg. But he was in Japan, and there were different expectations of him here than home. Saguru would have to get used to this. He sat through the end of day meeting through the help of hastily swallowed pain killers and glimpsed Takumi playing lacrosse on the athletic field out the window, his distinctive resemblance to Kuroba catching Saguru’s attention on automatic like he’d trained himself to notice Kuroba in high school.  It seemed an odd sport for a child of Aoko and Kaito to choose. He would have expected a martial art or gymnastics. Then again, the way he handled the stick brought memories of Aoko wielding her mop.

“Ah, Hakuba-san?”

“Yes?” Saguru tried to look like he had been paying attention to the meeting. Replaying the last few minutes he had heard in the background, he knew they were talking about clubs, but he wasn’t sure where that counted him.

“Yumi-san was the advisor of the literature club,” Shizume-sense—san, she wasn’t his sensei anymore—said flipping through notes. “Would you be able to take over as club advisor? If not I am sure someone else could do the job.”

“What would I need to do?” Saguru wasn’t sure he would have the energy for advising a club on top of teaching. He had never advised a club before either.

“Yumi-san kept track of membership and the book list.” Shizume handed him notes written with cheerful, rounded kana and kanji. There were notations of days and years and neat lines of names. “It was so that students would keep track of the books they read. Once a month she chose a book translated from English and led a discussion.”

Saguru turned the paper over. On the back were titles in English. Books children would like, like Harry Potter, and further down, classics, like Shakespeare’s Hamlet. A literature club, was it? That didn’t sound too bad. Not like a sports club where he would have to work with the students closely, or a club where he would have to lead his students by demonstration. Literature was something read on one’s own time, and discussion was the only interpersonal part of it. Literature would not require a large amount of clean up either. He set down the list. “I suppose I could be the advisor. Who is the current president so that I can get in touch with them?”

“Momoi Shiemi,” Takata said—the male Takata, not his wife, Kate. He looked amused. “She is a good student, but she has a very…unique personality. I am sure you will find her interesting.” Several other teachers laughed as if this were a joke.

Saguru had the sinking feeling that she was more than a bit eccentric, but he should be able to handle it. He had handled, Kuroba, Aoko, and Koizumi, so he couldn’t imagine a single girl could be worse than dealing with Kid on a heist. Granted he was more than a bit out of practice there.

Takata Kate gave him a smile. “You’ll be fine.”

Saguru smiled back, not really meaning it. He rubbed his leg under the table where it felt like pins and needles. The others started talking again and Saguru tuned them out. Eventually he wouldn’t be able to afford doing it, but he wanted to go home, sit in his kitchen chair and drink tea. If he was being ambitious, he would even finish putting away the last of his things from their boxes. Chairs scraped as teachers stood up to leave. Saguru gathered papers mechanically and reached for his cane. On the field, Takumi was running a pass, dodging with Kuroba’s ease and economy of motion. He’d have made a good gymnast rather than a lacrosse player. The ball arced toward the goal. Saguru looked away before he could see if it went in or not.

***

Saguru limped to his door at six o’clock. It took three tries to get the key in the door, and he turned it twice having it stick before he realized he was trying to use the key to his parents’ house on his apartment. He sighed and took the key out, fit in the right one and swung his door open. The dark entryway greeted him. He should check his lease. Maybe he could get a pet. A cat would be nice to come home to. Something that would be happy to see him and give more interaction than blank walls.

The door swung shut behind him a bit louder than he wanted, but there was no noise from next door indicating displeasure. In fact, both neighbors were completely silent. Kuroba had had his lights on though. Perhaps he had left the light on when he went to work.

Saguru checked his mailbox, found it empty, and headed into the kitchen to boil water for a package of instant noodles. He could picture Mel wrinkling his nose and pointing out the nutritional deficiency. Mum would have suggested adding egg and meat and vegetables to make it more of a meal. Saguru ate it plain, directly from the pot to reduce dishes. The clack of his chopsticks didn’t quite echo, but they competed to fill the space with the faint buzz of the digital clock in the corner. He washed the pot and sat. And sat. A few minutes to seven, the door to Kuroba’s apartment opened and shut. At seven-thirty a knock came on Saguru’s door.

Saguru groaned and hobbled to the door. His knee was locked up, stuck half bent and refusing to relax. He leaned heavily on his cane as someone knocked again. “Coming, coming,” Saguru said through gritted teeth. He shoved the door open. “Kuroba?”

Kuroba stood in business-casual clothes with two beers in hand. “Hey. Care for company?”

Saguru blinked at him. He stepped aside before he thought too hard. Somehow he hadn’t expected Kuroba to want to talk again so soon.  Kuroba smiled and kicked off his shoes at the entrance.

“Beer?” he asked, offering a bottle.

It was quality beer, imported, dark like Saguru enjoyed. He shook his head. “I’d better not. Ask me in a few months.”

“Addictive personality?” Kuroba asked with a quirked eyebrow. One of the bottles vanished somewhere on his person.

“And alcoholism is in the family.” Saguru shut the door. “It was a near thing when I was first recovering.”

“Ah.” When Saguru looked at Kuroba again, a thermos had appeared in his hand. “I thought you might not want anything. I brought some tea. Do you like _genmaicha_?”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever tried _genmaicha_. I usually stick to black teas or _sencha_ if I am drinking green tea.”

Kuroba smiled. “It’s not usually what you’d serve to guests, but I like the flavor the rice gives to the green tea.” Kuroba unscrewed the thermos lid and poured into a cup that appeared before Saguru’s eyes seemingly from Kuroba’s palm. There was no flash and bang, no obvious sleight of hand, no misdirection at all.

“You’ve gotten better at that,” Saguru said. He accepted the cup and it was pleasantly warm against his fingers. The teacup had irises on the side; it wasn’t one of Saguru’s teacups so it had to belong to Kuroba. He took a sip of the tea. It had a light, bitter flavor with a nutty, earthiness to it. It was a grounded tea, and something in it made Saguru positive that Kuroba had matured in more ways than were immediately obvious. “It’s nice,” he said in thanks.  He sat back down in the chair.

“I’m glad. Long day?”

“Mm. Sad since there’s a whole week left.” Saguru sipped his tea and watched Kuroba drink his beer. He looked completely relaxed with the bottle loose in one hand and one leg drawn to his chest. “No Takumi-kun tonight?”

The bottle passed between Kuroba’s hands, did flips, and didn’t spill a drop. “No. It’s a weekday. He’ll stop by sometimes during the week, but I work later most Mondays and Wednesdays. That’s when I do more finicky replicas and preservation that eats hours.”

“I see.”

They drank in silence for a few moments. Saguru was surprised that it was a companionable silence rather than an awkward one.

Kuroba pulled out juggling balls and tossed them idly, one handed. It seemed he still liked to keep his hands busy. “Talk to me.”

“About what?”

“Life.” Kuroba shrugged. “Anything. A childhood memory, a life changing moment…something positive.”

“Positive.” Saguru smiled wryly. He could use something positive. “Well, I’ll tell you a story and you tell me one. Is this fair?”

“Sure.” Kuroba took another swallow of beer and set the bottle aside. The balls vanished to whatever alternate dimension he kept things in as he became still, attentive.

Saguru took another sip of tea, casting around for a memory. He rubbed his right knee absently. Hmm. It was a bittersweet memory at the moment, but... “Back when I first started teaching, I wasn’t able to get a full time job. I was working part time as a substitute teacher and spending the rest of my time working as a private tutor.”

Kuroba snickered into his knee. “I can see you trying to look all serious all the time. I mean you were already serious, but I bet you got worse when you started working.”

“I did,” Saguru admitted, smiling back. “I felt like I had a lot to prove back then.”

“Of course you did. You’re a perfectionist.”

Saguru rolled his eyes. The tea was warm in his hands and Kuroba actually looked interested in what he had to say. That was a change from the past. Kuroba waved a hand, silently ordering him to continue. Saguru sighed, but he didn’t mean it. If anything he felt a little lighter already.

“I got hired by a parent who wanted to get her son into medical school. He was in sixth form—er, second year of high school equivalent here—and she wanted to get his science scores up before exams to have a chance at a better university.”

“Understandable.” Kuroba smirked a little, guessing where this was going. “Bet he loved finding out he had a tutor.”

Saguru’s lips twitched. “Right. Well, I get there the first day, am escorted to his room to meet him, and do you know what happens?”

“What?”

Saguru grinned letting himself get caught up in the memory. “The door opens and I get shot with a nerf dart right on my forehead. And it sticks.”

“The things with the suction cups?”

“Yes.”

Kuroba burst out laughing. “That’s great.”

“His mother was mortified. He was smug. I, however, was not so many years past dealing with your escapades and took it in stride.” Saguru finished his cup tea. “He was very disappointed when I took off the dart, set down my bag, and continued like nothing had happened. In hindsight, I should have reacted. It would have prevented the month of progressively more creative pranks as he tried to get me off task.”

“Ooh, do tell.” Kuroba’s eyes were crescents of amusement. The beer was loose in his hand, mostly gone. “Did he dye your hair?”

“His pranks weren’t up to your level, no,” Saguru said. “He did manage to set fire to my briefcase, leave inane messages on homework I had set aside to grade, and slipped a mouse into my bag so that it bit me when I went to get papers out later. I kept it in a terrarium for a year until it escaped and ran off somewhere. But after he set my papers on fire, I decided to prank back.”

“You pranked a kid?” Kuroba’s eyes were wide, like he couldn’t see Saguru ever pranking back.

“A teen on the eve of adulthood when I was twenty two,” Saguru defended. Then he grinned. “Of course his face when he realized his serious tutor had glitter bombed his bedroom was priceless.”

“ _Glitter_ bombs?”

“Kuroba, I didn’t spend two years being pranked by you without learning a few tricks.”

Kuroba shook his head, a smile growing on his face. “Wish I could have seen that. Though I probably wouldn’t have believed it.”

“He got grounded for the glitter bomb incident. His mother didn’t believe that I was behind it. After that we had a long talk and I learned that he was aiming for drama school, not medical, and helped him look into that. When I first met him he reminded me a bit of you.” Oh dear. That had come out sadder than he’d intended. It hadn’t been because Mel reminded him of Kuroba that he was sad; it was that after the prank war ended he had started to know Mel as a person and a friend.

“Huh. Still, you pranking someone.” Kuroba shook his head again. “I want to see the next time you do.”

“I’ll try to arrange it so you can,” Saguru said dryly. He likely wouldn’t prank anyone again. Not unless he was pranked first, but then it was just retaliation.

Kuroba refilled Saguru’s teacup and pulled the second beer from wherever it was hiding on his person—he was taller and a bit broader than he used to be, but he didn’t have any bulk to hide objects in. Saguru was as baffled as ever by Kuroba’s tricks. “So he got into drama school?”

“Yes. Of course his grades improved before then so his mother couldn’t withhold positive recommendations for my tutor work.” She’d almost disowned Mel when she learned he had applied for a theatre college instead of regular Uni. She had gotten past it eventually, but she had never quite forgiven herself for introducing Saguru to her son. Saguru had a complicated relationship with her and it had only soured as time went on. He frowned, turning the re-warmed teacup around in his hands.

Kuroba cleared his throat, and Saguru realized he had been quiet too long. “Hey! My turn now,” he said with exaggerated cheerfulness. Saguru could tell it was forced too, just a bit too big a smile and deep of creases around Kuroba’s eyes. “So. Memories. Well, the first time I performed a magic trick I was three. Now, Kaa-san will tell you otherwise. She says I was pulling escape tricks since I could crawl, but a toddler getting out of a play gate and half up a bookshelf isn’t really a magic trick.”

“So you always bounced like rubber and could stick to walls?”

“Shush. You had your story, I have mine.” He swallowed a mouthful of his new beer. “So I was three years old and Oyaji was trying to get me to get the dexterity to do coin tricks and kept showing me how to hide ten yen coins. Choking hazard, I know. Kaa-san gave him the evil eye on that one.” Kuroba set the bottle aside and pulled a ten yen coin out of thin air. “Oyaji kept doing _this_ —” Kuroba did an exaggerated arm movement, letting Saguru clearly see him palm the coin. “—but a three year old does _not_ have the dexterity that sort of thing requires or the right finger length to make that work. Anyway, that went on for about a week, and I got more and more frustrated because it wouldn’t work and I wanted to impress Tou-san, so I came up with something that would work.”

“Please tell me your disappearing trick didn’t involve swallowing the coin.”

Kuroba waved a hand. “No, no, I wasn’t _that_ stupid as a kid.” Saguru raised an eyebrow. This coming from the man who became Kaitou Kid, jumped out windows, and had nearly killed himself a dozen different ways during the time Saguru knew him? Saguru was willing to bet there were a lot more stupid mistakes in Kuroba’s childhood to get to where he was when Saguru met him. “Don’t look at me like that. Anyway. I figured out if I tossed the coin up like this…” He tossed it in the air. “And did _this_.” Two hands blurred toward where the coin was falling. Saguru couldn’t follow which was holding the coin. “I could create confusion over which hand was holding the coin. Then if I moved my hand fast I could catch the coin between my hand and wrist.” Kuroba bent his hand back, trapping the ten yen coin against his wrist. He turned his hands so the palms faced up, and it looked like his hands were empty. “It’s an actual magician’s trick, but Oyaji didn’t think to teach me that since palming is easier than doing a wrist catch. Anyway, trial and error and hitting myself in the face with a coin a lot, I got it to work and showed my parents…and fell into the koi pond at the house we were visiting at.”

“Your fear of fish.” Saguru laughed. “Your first success and your greatest weakness rolled into one.”

“It’s not a weakness. I can keep a straight face around f…them.” Kuroba looked indignant, then smiled.  “Oyaji pulled me out. A koi had tried to swallow my arm. I half drowned freaking out about that. But he laughed about it for years after and he always smiled when I did a wrist catch.”

“He sounds like he was a good father.” Saguru didn’t have many happy memories with his father. His childhood had been spent at first struggling to fit into Japan, then struggling to fit into Europe, with endless plane trips across the world whenever school was on holiday. He’d grown up with Mum, and Otou-san had always been...not unapproachable, but not emotive either. Their bonding came later when Saguru showed an aptitude for the kind of critical thinking detective work required. Even then it had been more cerebral than emotional.

“He was.” Kuroba drained the last of his beer. “You look a bit more relaxed,” he commented.

“Is that why you decided to visit?” Saguru set aside the teacup. He couldn’t deny that he was feeling much calmer and pleasantly warm from the company and tea. Kuroba also looked calmer than he had when he entered the room, and Saguru wondered if perhaps he hadn’t needed the distraction just as much as Saguru had.

“One of the reasons.” Kuroba stood, and the cup, thermos and empty bottles vanished. He brushed off his pants though there was barely a crease in them. “Will you be at the heist Wednesday?”

Saguru shook his head. “No. I would not be able to keep up if I went.”

“You could always direct from behind the scenes. You were good at figuring out where I planned on going.”

“It would draw too much attention.” Kuroba raised an eyebrow. Saguru sighed. This felt a bit like a test. “That part of my life is a closed chapter. The last thing I want is the media attention attending a Kid heist would bring.”

“True.” Kuroba stretched like he wasn’t almost thirty-five. “If you went you’d run into Aoko. She’s taken over as the head of the force. When Nakamori-keibu retired, they went through six different officers, and she was the only one who understood how Kid’s brain worked enough to keep up.” He smiled and it didn’t meet his eyes. “Go figure, huh?”

Saguru almost reached out, but he had never had the kind of relationship with Kuroba where he could offer comfort, and two days of being civil didn’t make that appear overnight. He didn’t say anything.

“Well,” Kuroba said. He hesitated for a split second, and maybe he wasn’t as comfortable as he appeared. Kuroba had only gotten better at hiding since Saguru had known him as a teenager, but he wasn’t without tells after all. “I should probably be going. You look like you’re going to fall asleep in your chair.”

“Thank you, Kuroba,” Saguru said, heading off any dancing around the situation.

Kuroba’s nose scrunched up minutely and his hand twitched like he wanted a scarf or juggling ball to play with to cover up discomfort or embarrassment. “There’s nothing to thank me for. We’re just catching up.”

“Mm.” He should let Kuroba out, but he didn’t feel like moving. “Be careful on Wednesday.”

Kuroba gave him a blinding smile. And that was what it was meant to be—a blind. “Ah, Hakuba, I’m an old hand at this now. I could pull a heist off with my eyes closed.”

Saguru leaned his head on his hand. He had kept up with the heist records over the years. He knew how many times a sniper had been present at Kid heists publicly, and if it was that high a number publicly, it must be far higher unofficially. The number had only risen in the last sixteen years. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

Kuroba’s expression froze for as long as it took to blink an eye, the slightest tensing of muscles that Saguru nevertheless caught. “Not close enough.”

There were questions that had lurked at the back of Saguru’s mind for almost two decades pressing to come out, but he ignored them. He wasn’t going to ruin whatever goodwill had Kuroba reaching out just to satisfy his curiosity. “Have a good night Kuroba.”

“You too.” He seemed surprised Saguru wasn’t pressing, but Saguru wasn’t the impatient teen he used to be anymore. And he wasn’t a detective anymore either, even if he could never quite shut out that part of his brain and personality.

As soon as Kuroba shut the door, Saguru felt the silence of the room weigh down on him. He’d told Kuroba a story about Mel. Why had he told him a story about Mel? Now he had Mel on his mind, and death coiling around his subconscious. Kuroba must have had similarly morbid thoughts if he brought in a memory that featured his father so heavily. Or not since he was a father now as well and it could just be that he viewed his childhood memories with new eyes…

The alarm clock in the corner blinked nine eighteen at him. It took him almost until the half-hour mark to drag himself from his thoughts and bathe before bed. If his sleep was restless and dogged by bloody memories, there was no one there to know it but him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Saguru's projecting a bit in the beginning. This might be a good moment to point out that he isn't always a reliable narrator and isn't going to always reliably know what's going on with other people. 
> 
> He and Takumi get off to a rough start >_>
> 
> (For the opening ceremonies, pretend people don't hear about their homeroom teacher during them and they don't take most of the day to get through cuz that's a lot of time to account for and let's just get the ball rolling, yeah?)  
> ((You know how I have that tea tag? I'm not joking about how much tea is consumed in this story. Like. A fraction of the tea I've drank writing this. But So much tea))


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The next two days passed quickly. Takumi didn’t test him Tuesday, spending the day watching him instead, but Wednesday brought another prank and a strike on Takumi’s record. Saguru could feel Takumi’s eyes on him, challenging him to do his worst, but that was part of the problem. No one knew what they could and could not get away with yet, and until they did, there would be students like Takumi testing Saguru’s limits. Teaching in Japan was very different than England, but it brought back nostalgia along with a healthy helping of sympathy for his teachers. There was all the more reason to appreciate the attentive students when students fell asleep, passed notes, or blatantly read manga, used to this being mostly ignored. Saguru planned to introduce the manga readers to English comic strips. That way if they read in his class at least it would be something English related.

Troublemakers aside, things were settling into a pattern the way things always did. Saguru always felt better with a routine. His currently routine wasn’t the healthiest of patterns at the moment. He woke up, had tea and breakfast, went to work, came home, sat in a daze, made dinner, and went to bed, but it was a pattern nevertheless. Kuroba’s presence was welcome as a variable in the pattern. He could see the year stretching ahead in a set formula, and it might not be where he thought he’d be a year ago, but it would be a _stable_ formula. That was what Saguru needed most at the moment.

Saguru heard sirens that night as he sat up, grading his first homework papers. They went on for half an hour, passing in one direction and then another. Saguru was sure KID was leading the task force on a merry chase. Ten minutes after midnight as Saguru laid in his futon, he heard Kuroba return. He only noticed because he was listening for it, the light click of a door opening, a few seconds of water running on the other side of the wall. There was a series of faint popping noises Saguru classified as the glider being packed away. The tiny, quiet sounds next door continued for another ten minutes and then all was still. Saguru wondered if Kuroba still had a partner. He had had one during high school, but now? Saguru could only hope Kuroba had someone watching his back that he could trust not to put a bullet in it.

***

Homeroom had been suspiciously quiet. In the past two weeks, Saguru had found that homeroom tended to be a bit chaotic. After morning tasks were over, students tended to chat and, inevitably, Saguru would find Takumi studying him across the room whenever classmates weren’t occupying his attention. The most intent scrutiny would eventually lead to a prank, something small, like the chalk going missing from the blackboard or pens replaced with odd colors some time during his English class. Twice Saguru had caught Takumi pulling something more elaborate, intercepting a glitter bomb before it made its way into his desk and easily tracing back the hoard plastic spiders that fell from a propped ceiling tile to their source. Takumi didn’t seem to be trying hard to hide his efforts, and his classmates seemed torn between humor and confusion.

It was enough to guess that this wasn’t usual behavior.

Which meant Takumi definitely didn’t like Saguru or was trying to prove something, and it wasn’t clear what that was yet.

But today had been quiet and Saguru was on edge because of it. Takumi had focused on his desk instead of staring him down, and the break of pattern was enough to have Saguru braced. Saguru’s back was to the class, diagramming a sentence with notations in Japanese. He reached the end of the line, the itch between his shoulder blades leaning toward paranoia, and turned in time to see the room fill with a puff of smoke. A light weight settled around him, barely noticeable except that his senses were on overtime. When the smoke cleared, Takumi wasn’t even bothering to pretend that someone else did it. He met Saguru’s eyes and smirked. It was such a Kuroba expression that Saguru wanted to laugh. Unfortunately that would be both inappropriate and counterproductive at the moment.

The classroom was so quiet he could have heard a mouse run across the floor. Then one girl toward the back of the room started giggling, trying and failing to stifle the sound as she slumped down in her desk.

Saguru sighed and pulled out the hand mirror he had in his pocket just in case he needed it for moments like this. There was a thin, rather tastefully done layer of makeup on Saguru’s face and a chin-length wig on his head which explained why his head felt heavier and his cheek itched. For the life of him, Saguru couldn’t figure out how Takumi—who sat in the middle of the room—had managed to put a wig _and_ makeup on Saguru in ten-odd seconds it took for the smoke to disperse without Saguru feeling him do it. Surely he should have felt the lipstick at the very least? Then again, Saguru had never figured out how Kuroba managed to dye his hair green on multiple occasions and (a memory that still had Saguru feeling embarrassed) dressed him in women’s lingerie during a Kid heist. So it was an impressive prank, and were it to someone else at another time, Saguru would have appreciated it for the skill it held.

Instead, Saguru snapped the mirror shut and pulled a wet wipe from his briefcase to clean the makeup off. He took the wig off, a bit amused at how it had brought out his resemblance to Mum, and made a notation in what he’d heard at least one student call the ‘black book.’ That taken care of, he let his gaze travel across the classroom, one eyebrow pointedly raised. Their giggling trailed off uncertainly. Obviously they expected an explosion. He wasn’t giving them one. “Kuroba-kun, please see me at the end of the school day.”

“Sports tryouts are today, sensei,” Takumi said, shoulders rigid.

 _Well he should have thought about that before choosing today to pull that prank_ , Saguru thought. Outward, he smiled thinly. “Then please come see me during your lunch break.”

He turned back to the blackboard and continued on with the lesson like nothing had happened. The class was quiet for the rest of the lesson. Takumi spent the whole time slouched at his desk with a scowl breaking through the edges of an imperfect impassive face. If it was Kuroba, Saguru would be worried that an escalation of pranks was coming at any moment, but Saguru hoped there was more of Aoko’s temperament in Takumi than Kuroba in this regard. Aoko had disrupted class in high school too, but it had always been in an attempt to _control_ Kuroba and follow rules.

***

The rest of the morning passed without incident. It was quiet enough that Saguru had to wonder if rumors were flying already. When he reached the teacher’s room for lunch, Takata was already at her desk, flipping papers idly.

“So, rumor has it you stone-walled your way through a prank and kids are throwing rumors that you wouldn’t react if a bomb went off.”

“Is that what they’re saying?” Saguru sat heavily at his desk, rubbing at his bad knee. It was doing better than last week, but a persistent, dull ache wasn’t much better than the sharp and sudden pains that over-stressing it brought about.

“Did a student really get a wig on you?”

“And a face of makeup.”

“Damn.” Takata looked impressed. “I’m glad he’s in your class not mine.”

Saguru snorted. “I doubt he’d give you problems; I seem to be the only person he takes issue with.”

“Well that sucks.”

At the door, Saguru could see Takumi debating whether or not to walk over. “Speaking of said student, I need to have a talk.”

Takata followed his eyes. “Good luck.” There was an aborted motion that probably would have been a supportive pat on the shoulder, but it was reigned in almost immediately. If they were more familiar, he doubted she’d have thought twice, but after years of teaching and living in Japan, she was probably more hesitant about casual contact. The thought was appreciated though.

Saguru made himself comfortable and waved Takumi over. Takumi crossed the space between them with his head held high and his shoulder braced for whatever might come.

“Well?” he said once he was next to Saguru’s desk. “I have three marks now. What’s the penalty?”

Saguru waited a moment before answering. Takumi had relaxed into a casual slouch beside Saguru’s desk, but he was no expert in hiding body language; his shoulders were curled forward a bit and his hands in his pockets to still any instinctive fidgeting. He had a faint bruise on his chin that was only noticeable this close, probably from lacrosse, and his jaw was too tight to be anything but nervous and defensive. He was probably ready to be indignant no matter what the punishment was. Saguru laced his fingers together in his lap and sat back.

“For one, I plan to speak with both of your parents. While it is your responsibility to control your actions in school, I prefer to speak with family as well as my student when an issue arises.”

Takumi snorted. “Good luck getting them in the same room long enough to listen.”

“I can speak to them separately just as easily.”

“That’s it?” His shoulders relaxed minutely.

Saguru narrowed his eyes. “No.” He pulled a printout from the meager pile of papers on his desk. “If you can translate this by the end of the week and answer the questions on the back, your count will return to zero and you’ll gain an extra credit point.”

“And if I don’t do the sheet?” Takumi asked.

“You lose a point from your grades and have a detention after school. In addition, your count remains the same—meaning we’ll be having a lot more discussions with any future class disruptions.” At Takumi’s disgruntled expression, Saguru added, “I will also be less likely to consider your convenience in scheduling future talks.” It wasn’t a perfect system and Saguru knew it could be exploited. It was more to make his students think before they kept acting out. With an added bonus of small rewards for cooperating. If they didn’t, well, Saguru’s translation projects only got harder as the checks increased.

He held out the worksheet. Takumi took it with a scowl. “I’ll be calling your mother tonight, and I can meet with your father at his convenience. Do you want to be present for either discussion?”

Takumi looked at him like he grew a second head, all silent defiance gone in a moment of teenage horror. “No. I’d have to put up with Kaa-san’s eye rolls and Tou-san’s thumbs up whenever you look away. Tou-san _likes_ when I play pranks.” Takumi went red and clamped his mouth shut like he hadn’t meant to say any of that.

Saguru raised an eyebrow, laughing inside even as he kept as straight a face as he could. That sounded like Kuroba all right. “Unless your mother has changed a lot over the last sixteen years, I can’t imagine she’d be near as...supportive as Kuroba.”

Takumi frowned and after a moment Saguru realized he must have been puzzling over the lack of honorific and whether it signified intimacy or a lack of respect.

Saguru cleared his throat. “That’s due Friday at the start of homeroom.” Saguru waved a hand at the paper getting wrinkled in Takumi’s grip. “Before you leave, may I ask why you decided to pull these pranks in my class?” They weren’t for attention, though Saguru supposed that could be at least part of the motivation. The fact that it was only Saguru getting pranked meant it was something personal, a challenge perhaps, but he wanted to hear Takumi’s motives in his own words.

Takumi looked at Saguru and for a moment there was a glimpse of emotion in his expression, something like desperation and anger and hurt before it was locked away and Takumi’s eyes flickered between Saguru’s light-colored hair and bad leg.

“You’re different and I don’t really like you,” he said, but the words didn’t hold any of the emotion hidden under his bland expression. They rang hollow, false. Gut instinct said it was a lie, but Saguru didn’t call him on it. “Can I go eat lunch now, Hakuba-sensei?” Takumi asked, for all the world looking like nothing more than a petulant teenager with nothing more complicated than irritation at authority going on.

Saguru sighed. “You may go.”

Takumi left with only the barest sketch of a bow, walking away like he was afraid Saguru might try to pry his secrets from him.

“Wow,” Takata said once he was gone. “I hope he isn’t like that for me next year.”

Saguru hummed, noncommittal. She wasn’t likely to have any problems with Takumi at all. Whatever this was, it was personal, and until he figured out what to do about it, he would have to see where events would unfold.

***

“So,” Kuroba said from Saguru’s chair when Saguru arrived home. “I hear Takumi got in trouble at school?”

Saguru blinked at him, one hand still on the light switch. He sighed, continued the motion of stepping into the room and dumped his briefcase on the counter. “It is nice to see you’re still consistent in your breaking and entering, Kuroba,” he said, going and filling the kettle with water and preparing things for tea.

Kuroba pouted, looking remarkably similar to when Takumi interacted with a friend that afternoon. “You didn’t even jump.”

“I’m more than used to your antics,” Saguru replied with a small smile. Or at least he used to be and some part of his brain still expected the unexpected with Kuroba. “Well. At any rate, this saves me the trouble of asking to meet with you.” Kuroba looked comfortable and immovable in Saguru’s chair. “You’re not giving up the chair are you?”

“Nope,” Kuroba said. There was the tiniest bit of sadism in his cheerful smile. Saguru sighed and went to the bathroom for painkillers to go with the tea. Because he needed them after so long on his feet without any sign of resting his bad leg in the near future. If he tried to sit on the floor, Saguru was sure he wouldn’t be able to stand back up because his knee would lock up. Kuroba watched the process and didn’t budge an inch from where he lounged in the chair. Saguru really needed to invest in another chair.

“So,” Saguru said once the tea was prepared and steaming from two Sherlock Holmes-themed novelty mugs students had given him some five or six years ago. “How did you find out? I haven’t called Aoko yet, and Takumi-kun isn’t likely to tell you without prompting.”

“I keep track of the school gossip network. And I might be friends with some of the other faculty due to happy coincidence of being in a hostage situation with them at one point or another.”

“As yourself or someone else?” Saguru asked to cover for his discomfort at the thought of anyone holding Kuroba hostage. Actually, no, he pitied anyone who tried. They probably regretted it quickly.

“Myself thankfully, so it’s not strange to keep in contact with them as Kuroba Kaito.” Kuroba rested his chin on his hands, his cup of tea set aside for the moment. “But that’s not what we’re here to talk about.”

“No, it isn’t.” Saguru let the mug warm his fingers, wishing the warmth would sink into his bones so that maybe they wouldn’t ache. He leaned against the counter awkwardly, balancing the curve of his spine against it so that most of his weight was on his good leg.

“What did Takumi do?”

“If your rumor network was any good, I would think you would already know.”

“Oh I do. I just want to hear your impressions of it.”

Saguru scowled at him. Kuroba looked entirely unrepentant. “Takumi-kun performed a series of pranks against my person that disrupted the learning environment, presumably with intent to humiliate me publicly. I do not believe that was the original intent of the first prank. That was more of an initiation to test my reaction, but subsequent pranks were aimed at me in a personal manner.”

Kuroba nodded. “And?”

“And today he magicked makeup on me and waited for a reaction. He’s trying to test something, and I think he dislikes me for reasons beyond me being his English teacher and… being ‘different.’”

Kuroba sat up straighter, looking serious for the first time. “He said he pranked you because you’re different?”

“Yes.” Saguru took a sip of tea, letting the sharp taste roll along his tongue and down his throat. Good thing, tea. It was a constant no matter the rest of Saguru’s life being turned on end. “I do not think you need to worry about him becoming a bully,” Saguru said, following the troubled expression on Kuroba’s face to a line of thought that would be its cause. “It might be the reason he gave, but I doubt it was the actual reason. Now other students I can believe it from, but it doesn’t ring true with what I’ve observed of him in other situations. He gets along with just about everyone else so far as I’ve seen. Including the eclectic group in the literature club and its leader.”

“You met Shiemi, then?”

“I’m the literature club advisor.”

“Oh.” Kuroba tilted his head. “Well that’ll be interesting. Shiemi’s a force of her own. Takumi’s been friends with her since they were born more or less. She was a pretty quiet kid. Don’t know what changed, but she’s...definitely not quiet now.”

Saguru chuckled into his teacup. There was a story in Kuroba’s expression, but he wasn’t going to dig now. “I gave Takumi-kun two passes where he did not get any punishment, and the third lead to parental discussions and extra homework. I think I’ve been more than fair in the situation.”

“Three strikes you’re out, huh?” Kuroba sighed. “He doesn’t usually act out. I can count the number of times we’ve gotten complaints on one hand for him disrupting class with magic. I was getting calls every other day and the only reason I didn’t get kicked out was because Kaa-san had connections.”

“Could you perhaps talk with him about it?” Saguru asked. “Perhaps you could find out what is bothering him.”

“He probably won’t talk with me.” Kuroba shrugged. “He thinks I don’t take anything seriously.”

“That is likely your own fault, Kuroba.”

“It is.” Kuroba shrugged again. “It keeps him from looking too closely, and sometimes it’s better that way than him finding out all the secrets Aoko and I have buried between us.”

“Takumi-kun is your son, I am not going to judge you for how you raised him.”

“Sure you’re not.” Kuroba stretched and hopped out of the chair. “All yours. Sorry for the inquisition. Had to make sure you weren’t projecting me on Takumi.”

“When have I ever judged someone for their parents’ behavior?” Saguru asked mildly. He moved to the chair and sat. Blissful relief.

“You haven’t had a history with anyone quite the same way you had a history with me so far as I know.”

“Point.” Saguru finished off his tea. “By the way, you’re back early.”

“I took off early to talk to you. I have plenty of time off saved up. I can get away with going home early every once in a while.” Kuroba stretched and yawned. “You’d better call Aoko soon. She can tell when Takumi is in trouble and will get his whole story from him by the end of the night.”

“I was planning on it after dinner.” Saguru glanced at the clock. Six thirty-four. Another late meal then.

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer. I have to make my own dinner.” Kuroba waved and sauntered toward the door. His empty mug was left near the dish drainer. “Oh,” he said from the doorway. “I got your groceries. You should really go shopping once a week rather than letting the list get that long. You can’t get all that in one trip with that leg.”

He took a step out, then popped his head around the corner. “One more thing; that prank. How did it rate?”

Saguru blinked at him. “...A four using you as a measure.”

Kuroba grinned. “I knew he was working on something new. He inherited the talent. Later, Hakuba!”

The door clicked shut behind him. Saguru stared after him before levering himself up and opening his refrigerator. Sure enough there were fresh vegetables, strawberries, and takeout ramen with a note on top with a Kid caricature grinning up at him. It was a bit surreal and reminded him of high school when he had gone home after a heist and found cold medicine on his desk with orders to take two pills before going to bed to keep the case of sniffles he had had that day from becoming a full blown cold. The cupboards were similarly stocked. Saguru returned to the note in the fridge and found that it was a list of prices and an explanation that Kuroba had borrowed his bank card to pay for the cost. Delivery was “free of charge.” Saguru wasn’t sure how to feel about Kuroba getting ahold of his bank card.

Saguru reheated the takeout and ate it feeling safe that Kuroba hadn’t dosed it with anything this time at least. He wouldn’t have bought Saguru groceries just to drug takeout ramen. He would have to ask Kuroba where the ramen came from. It was better than most places he had tried and, if the price next to it was any indication, it was much more affordable than his first choice for ramen in the past—a place that might not even exist anymore.

***

After washing the takeout bowl (it could always be used to store leftovers) Saguru called Aoko. It took a bit of searching to find her number. When Saguru was assigned his homeroom class, he was given their phone numbers, but he hadn’t memorized them, and the paper was stuck to another one with rice. He couldn’t fathom how rice had gotten on the paper as he ate neatly and did not leave his work papers lying around, but by the time he finally found it and dialed Aoko’s number, the only thing Saguru wanted to do was sleep. And really, really not think about how he hadn’t even pretended to get angry at Kuroba for breaking into his house and buying food with Saguru’s money. Not. Going. To think about it.

The phone picked up on the other end after the third ring. “ _Moshi moshi_ , Kuroba residence, Takumi speaking.”

“Good evening, Kuroba-kun, is your mother available? It’s Hakuba.”

“Oh.” The other end of the line went silent and for a second Saguru thought Takumi had hung up, but then there was a sigh. “Just a minute.”

Saguru yanked his ear away from the phone as it shrieked, coming in contact with some surface as it was set down. There were echoey footsteps and then voices, just far enough away from the receiver that only the inflection could be heard.

“Hello? Hakuba-san?” Aoko said on the other end of the phone. She sounded tired. It might have something to do with the Kid notice that had appeared in the paper this morning. Her task force would be running around deciphering the note and preparing security the best they could.

“A—” He stopped. He had no idea how to address her. Kuroba-san? Nakamori-san because that was how he knew her in school? Aoko—especially without an honorific—was too familiar and disrespectful even if it was how he thought of her in his mind. “Hello.”

“It’s been a long time,” she said, taking the problem of words out of his hands. “You’re Takumi’s English teacher aren’t you?”

“Yes. It seemed…best to leave England for the time being. I had a teaching license.”

“Ah.”

It wasn’t like with Kuroba. Maybe he had never really gotten to know Aoko. Back then he had found her cute and mostly overlooked her. She was a factor in understanding Kuroba so he had gotten to know her only so far as he needed to learn more about Kuroba. Saguru regretted it a bit now. He never saw what Kuroba did in her, and he doubted he would get the second chance to get to know her.

He cleared his throat. “I’m calling because there have been a few incidents in class with Takumi-kun. Of, ah, our high school days variety.”

Silence from the other end.

“Na—Ku—damn it, how should I address you?”

Aoko made a noise, one that sounded alarming over the phone without an expression to reference against.

“Are you all right?”

The noise became recognizable snickering. Saguru frowned at the wall trying to figure out what on earth was going through her brain.

“And all—this time,” Aoko said between giggles, “I thought Takumi took more after Kaito except for his disciplinary record. I guess not.”

“Ah.”

Aoko’s giggles trailed off with a not so happy sigh. “Call me Aoko-san. I’m sure it’s a lot easier than trying to think of me as a Kuroba.” She sighed again. “So Takumi was doing magic tricks in class. Do I want to ask how bad?”

“A four on Kuroba’s scale of mayhem,” Saguru said, trying to keep his voice light. “They were directed at me, however, which both disrupted the class and undermined my position of authority. I expected to have students test me, but Takumi-kun’s methods tend to attract more attention than most students who act out.”

“I see. I’ll have a talk with him. He knows what I think of him getting his father’s record. I can’t promise that it won’t happen again.”

“I don’t expect you to promise that.” Saguru felt a smile on his lips, genuine and nostalgic. “I think living through Kuroba in high school prepared me for anything.”

“You’d be surprised. Takumi has caught Kaito off guard before.” She sounded sad again, though with the same nostalgic tone Saguru had. “Was there property damage or…?”

“No, nothing like that. Mostly flash and dazzle. No injuries or destruction, and no hurt feelings.” So long as no one was counting mild embarrassment as hurt feelings.

“I’m glad.” Silence hung heavy through still air. Static crackled faintly. Saguru listened to Aoko breathe, slow and steady. She cleared her throat. “Um, Hakuba-san…I’m sorry I never believed you in high school.”

Saguru clenched his phone tight enough that the plastic creaked against his ear. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Why are you apologizing?” She laughed, and it almost sounded like it rang true. If he didn’t hear the slight catch in her inhale, he would have believed it. “You knew. Before anyone else figured it out you knew and I suspected, but I pushed that suspicion aside. It was Kaito. How could I have trusted your word over his?”

Something in her voice made Saguru want to hug her. To hold her and tell her that it would be okay, not in a romantic way, but because she sounded like a woman who had had the rug pulled out from under her. He had met people who sounded like that on murder scenes with their loved one the victim. But he couldn’t give her a hug, and even if he had been by her side, he doubted she would have accepted. Aoko was stubborn and had her pride. He couldn’t deny her that. Instead he said, “You loved him.”

“I still do,” she whispered. “I just hate him more.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“Don’t.” Aoko sighed. “You aren’t going to arrest him are you?”

“I’m just an English teacher,” he said gently. “I haven’t been a fully licensed detective in almost fourteen years.”

“He’s mine,” Aoko said, strangely calm now. “If he gets caught. If he gets _shot_ by anyone. It’s going to be by me. Okay?”

“Yes.” He had long given up any claim in chasing Kid.

“Good. It’s good to hear from you Hakuba-san. I hope we can talk again sometime. Keep an eye on Kaito. Just in case.”

Saguru felt a bit cold. _‘If he gets_ shot _…’_   “I’ll do that. Have a good evening, Aoko-san.”

The phone line clicked off on the other end. His cell phone beeped at him. He hung up. The phone slid through his fingers and thudded against the _tatami_. Saguru ran a hand through his hair. There was a spill on the table in a crescent shape from his earlier bowl of ramen. Next door was the murmur of a television, kept thoughtfully low in Kuroba’s apartment, and more cheery pop music coming from the other neighbor. Saguru ran a finger through the spill. Now it looked like a circle; a full moon that Kid favored. He smeared the circle across the table with his palm. Now it was just a wet streak, no meaning at all. Saguru leaned from his chair to pick up his phone.

Nearing nine. He had homework to grade. He would do it tomorrow morning as he sipped his tea and tried not to think about the tin of coffee in his cupboard he never drank but had bought from habit. He’d try not to think about the person he had been as a teenager and compare him to the person he was now. He would try not to remember how stubbornly Aoko had defended Kuroba or how desperately Kuroba tried to keep his identity hidden…or how eagerly he, Saguru, had crowed that identity to the world. Saguru pulled out his futon, brushed his teeth, and went to bed. There was always morning.

OMAKE

Momoi wasn’t quite what Saguru was expecting. For one, she was tall—she almost met Saguru’s eyes, and he was taller than most people in Japan. For another, she wore her hair in braids—which for most people it made them look younger—that were short and fat and somehow reminded him of ram’s horns from the way they poked forward. They framed her thin face right at the level of her cheekbones and seemed to aide her frown directed toward the books Saguru had brought in case the literature club needed any ideas. The other members were closer to what he had expected, more introverted than their peers, but the type that would open up around friends. There were two more women than men, also not a surprise, but Momoi Shiemi projected confidence and control Saguru didn’t see often with teenagers.

“So you’re Yumi-sensei’s replacement, huh?” Momoi said, eyes narrowed behind wire-rim glasses.

“Hakuba Saguru, yes. I’m—”

“I know who you are. There are rumors across the whole school about you.” She smiled, thin and challenging. “Most are crap, but from the reputable sources I see they got it right about you once being a detective. You sized us up when we got here. You notice details.” She shook her head and her braids tapped against her cheeks. “You have terrible taste in books though. You’re not going to get anyone interested in _Faustus_ here. Well, maybe Kenta, but he plans on studying foreign literature.”

“Your group read Shakespeare,” Saguru said, bemused. “Marlowe is his contemporary. It isn’t that much more difficult to read, though I will admit that this particular translation is a bit antiquated in its word choice.”

“But Shakespeare is Shakespeare.” She shook her head. “I give you points with _The Hound of the Baskervilles_ though. That is a good book even if Conan Doyle can’t seem to keep his canon straight.”

Saguru bristled. “I beg your pardon? Sir Conan Doyle wrote one of the most iconic characters in detective literature.”

“Doesn’t change that Watson had a traveling wound.” Momoi stared him down. Saguru scowled back. The other club members shifted nervously, but made no effort to intervene. Saguru swore one of them, the girl toward the back was rolling her eyes.

The door rattled, and someone entered saying, “Sorry I’m late I had—oh.”

Saguru broke his staring contest. It was Takumi at the door. They blinked at each other. Momoi grinned.

“About time. Takumi, help me get Sensei to understand that Doyle sucked at keeping details straight.” She slung an arm around Takumi’s neck, using his shoulder as a prop.

Takumi groaned. “Are you serious? Argue it yourself.”

“Where would be the fun in that?”

Saguru twitched. He…he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be the advisor of the literature club anymore. A Kuroba and Momoi—who looked like she was getting ready to rope the whole club into attacking Saguru’s favorite author’s writing—were going to make his life…interesting. And worse, they seemed to be close. God, if they were like Aoko and Kuroba in high school, Saguru was giving the club to someone else, responsibility, pride, and faculty opinions be damned. He cleared his throat. “Well. My apparently poor taste in literature aside,” he speared Momoi with a frown, “please give me a list of new members from the involvement fair, and if you need any help or resources, do not hesitate to ask. Yumi-sensei led a book discussion once a month about an English book, and if you are interested in continuing that, I am willing to lead a discussion as well.”

Momoi sized him up. “If you can come up with something that won’t put us to sleep, then sure. Go for it. If you suck leading a discussion, we’ll just discuss it on our own.”

Saguru grit his teeth. Takumi looked at her like this just made his day. She didn’t even have a reason to dislike Saguru yet. “Fine. Please keep me to date on what your group is reading. I’ll continue Yumi-sensei’s list.”

“Until she gets back,” a short girl with cat stickers on her notebook hiding behind a tall, long-haired boy murmured. “From maternity leave.”  The others looked at her, some shrugging, some nodding. Momoi looked sad, like she didn’t expect her teacher to return. Yumi-sensei might not return, or at least not until after the group had graduated. Saguru could remember teachers that left on maternity leave and then never came back, deciding to stay home to raise their child instead. It was more common in Japan than England, but he had seen it often enough both places to feel a bit sad for the students. Yumi-sensei must have been a good teacher to have so many students that liked her.

Takumi coughed. “Yeah. Until she gets back.” He glared at Saguru over Momoi’s shoulder. Did he really think Saguru would tell the girl otherwise?

“So!” Momoi said, cutting through the uncomfortable silence. “Everyone brought their lists right?”

Each club member pulled out a slip of paper, some longer than others. Book lists? Saguru supposed they must come with ideas and vote.  Momoi grinned.

“Takumi, the cards.” Momoi held out a hand. He placed a deck of cards in her hand. She walked over to the club room’s table and bridged the cards while shuffling like a pro. Saguru’s eyebrows crept up into his hairline. Well. This was going interesting directions. “Sensei,” Momoi said through a shark’s smile as the club members took seats around the table, their lists in front of them. “How are you at poker?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Takumi's being a brat, Saguru is tired, and I slip Shiemi in at the end along with the rest of lit club >_>


	5. Chapter 5

Things, Saguru reflected, staring down a late night cup of chamomile, were a bit better after speaking to Aoko. Takumi had turned in the worksheet—with spelling errors, but he’d actually done it, and not half-assed it using a translator; Saguru would have found far more consistent errors if he had—but of course the pranks didn’t stop. They got sneakier. Less disruptive and less obvious. Small things were moved or misplaced and things that should not be on his person or in his things popped up. Like smoke pellets that went off when he set down his briefcase or a crazy straw looping impressively over his tea cup. They were calculated so that Saguru wouldn’t be inclined to call Takumi out on them, but still harassment. Saguru couldn’t figure out what his angle was. To make Saguru angry? To have another talk with his parents? But no, that didn’t seem likely. The day after he had spoken with Aoko, Takumi had come to him before class, frowning and serious saying, “You made Kaa-san cry.” After that Saguru doubted Takumi wanted him to speak to his mother again.

It didn’t help that in the last three weeks since the incident Saguru had been running into Takumi everywhere—in class, in the halls, at the literature club meeting Saguru had attended, and of course next door when he visited Kuroba.

Saguru swallowed cold tea, sweetened with a bit of honey. He’d made it to try and calm him enough to sleep, but instead his mind had gone off on tangents. He had run into Takumi leaving his father’s apartment (on time; he seemed to want to avoid another awkward moment like their first meeting) and had witnessed Kuroba’s tight, one armed hug and Takumi’s protest that was more for show than not. He clearly loved Kuroba.

There was a draft from the window and Saguru didn’t need to look up to know Kuroba was sitting in his window watching him. “What are you still doing up?” Kuroba asked. In the last week he had started dropping in, even if for just a few minutes to exchange how his day went and, Saguru suspected, to check on how Saguru was doing. Saguru had finally broken down and bought another chair.

“I’m thinking,” Saguru replied. He continued studying the wall blankly. He went to take a gulp of tea only to find that the cup was empty. Odd. He had plenty of tea left a moment ago.

“You’re worrying,” Kuroba corrected. “Talk.” He padded, near silent, to sit in the free chair. He swiped Saguru’s teacup and sniffed it. “Good, not alcoholic, then.”

“No, just tea and honey.” Saguru rubbed his eyes. They ached behind them, deep into his skull and down along his sinuses to his temples in a slow throb of eye strain and sleep deprivation. “It’s about Takumi-kun.”

“He’s still pranking you.”

“Yes.” Saguru scrubbed at his eyes, but the ache didn’t go away. He blinked cross-eyed at Kuroba as his body tried to catch up with his brain.

“It isn’t because you’re different,” Kuroba said, low and serious. He leaned forward. “I asked, and he wasn’t lying. He wouldn’t explain why he was pranking you, but that isn’t the reason.”

“I know. It would be much more malicious if that was the case.” Saguru sighed. “I can almost see why, but then the pieces fall through my fingers.”

Kuroba chuckled. “The detective’s out of practice.”

“Mm.” Saguru rested his chin on his fist. “I’ve never been good with people to begin with.” That was why he watched them. That was why he used to ask whenever he made an arrest what had motivated a crime. To make sense of it all.

“If you’re losing sleep, it’s pretty serious,” Kuroba said, only half joking. He poked Saguru’s face. “You’re going to get bags under your eyes.”

Saguru swatted his hand away. “It’s hardly the only thing going on in my life.” There were plenty of other things he was specifically trying _not_ to think of. “It worries me though because his record shows this behavior to be out of the ordinary. The other students are taking it in stride but changes in behavior can be reactions to stressors, and that he’s aiming it at me means that somehow I am a stressor. I can’t see how though, I’m doing my best to keep our interactions strictly professional and not letting my past with you or Aoko-san intrude on how I treat Takumi-kun as a student.”

Kuroba studied him. “Maybe that’s part of it.”

“What is?” Saguru sighed. He’d been up and down and back and forth over the whole thing and he was starting to get more than a little frustrated.

“Your past. You knew Aoko and I back in high school.”

“Do you think so?” Saguru frowned. It was a valid theory. Kuroba knew his son better than Saguru ever would, certainly.

“Keep trying. He’ll confront you eventually.” Kuroba watched him as Saguru felt his eyes sliding closed again. He had a half smile on his face like he had a particularly amusing thought process going on. It wasn’t his plotting face, so Saguru figured he had nothing too much to worry about for the moment. “Okay, you need to sleep.”

“I will. In a minute.” Saguru yawned. His jaw clicked and he blinked, rubbing it. Well, that didn’t sound good. That made him feel older than he usually felt.

“Up,” Kuroba said, no nonsense, and Saguru was following the command before it fully processed. His cane was pushed into his hand, stabilizing his wobbling stance as he tried not to put too much weight on his bad knee. “Brush your teeth.”

“But the futon—”

“I’ll clean up and put out the futon. Go.” Kuroba pushed him toward the washroom.

Saguru staggered to the sink, going through his night routine out of habit. What was Kuroba trying to pull? Concerned friend? But then he’d cared for Saguru’s wellbeing back when Saguru was his enemy so… Saguru was half through brushing his teeth when he realized floss was still stuck in his back molars. He pulled it free.

“Are you done in there yet?”

Saguru spat and washed his mouth clean. “Close.” He returned to find the futon pulled out and neat with his night clothes folded beside it. Saguru blinked at them. “I should be more surprised you know what I prefer to wear as my secondary sleepwear when my usual is waiting to be washed.”

“Just get some sleep,” Kuroba said. “You look terrible.”

“I’m generally a bit of a mess these days,” Saguru said absently. He shuffled across the room, only leaning on his cane as much as he needed. Compared to high school he was in constant disarray. Some days he didn’t bother to brush his hair beyond fixing bed head.

“You’re not that bad.” Kuroba sighed, and his hand fluttered in a motion Saguru didn’t understand. His wrist, when it flashed out from under his sleeve had a bandage, on the top from the back of his hand toward the back of his forearm. The bandage was disguised by makeup to be less noticeable, but the cold water from brushing his teeth had woken Saguru up enough to be a bit more observant.

“What happened to your arm?”

Kuroba glanced down at his arm and pushed his sleeve lower. “Just a slip up making a model earlier this week. I dropped a replica vase and a shard bounced and cut me.”

It sounded like a lie. Saguru’s sleep-deprived brain couldn’t connect the dots as to why it was a lie, but he felt certain that it was one all the same. Something in the way he covered it up? Or was it the disguised bandages? He crossed the space to take Kuroba’s hand in his. Kuroba’s face went blank and his muscles rigid, but he didn’t pull his arm away. Saguru pushed the sleeve up and noted more bandages, some long, others short. Pulling up the opposite sleeve showed the same, and when he looked closely at Kuroba’s face and neck, there was a tiny cut on his chin and one close to his collar bone that had been covered with liquid bandage and makeup. The cuts were clean and not deep, but the ones on his arms looked to be longer and possibly more severe from the length of the bandages. “Glass?” Saguru guessed.

Kuroba huffed, one sharp exhalation and pulled his arms free, rolling the sleeve down. “Ever the detective, aren’t you?” he said. His face was still a mask; his tone let nothing through about his true emotions, kept polite and distant.

“Was it your night job then?” Saguru’s mind went off without him, thinking through snipers and crazed fans and other criminals that had sought to use Kid in the past.

“The case shattered.”

Saguru tracked back two days to the last Kid heist and the fire opal necklace that Kid had stolen. He remembered a picture of it behind a glass case with other smaller jewels from the same artist. “By means of you, an officer, or one of the deadly shadows hanging around you?”

For a moment Kuroba’s face was still the mask, but he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. It was the crows that perch on rooftops. The shot went wide and hit the case in front of me. The glass shattered toward me and I had to shield my face.”

“I see.” Saguru wondered if it had been kept out of the public eye or if the police had missed the shot as usual. Kuroba was watching Saguru’s face.

He glared at Saguru, steel in his eyes. Saguru couldn’t remember ever having that expression leveled at him, not even in moments of challenge. “Don’t. Don’t think, don’t analyze, and _don’t get involved_. Not how you are now. I don’t need anyone else a target.” This from the man who had casually asked him if he planned on returning to heists. Had the question been a test?

“I presume I already am one as your neighbor and old rival.” Did they know about Kuroba Kaito, or did they only know Kaitou Kid? Kuroba’s hints and the death of his father meant that they had tracked down the original Kid’s identity. It would be simple to realize who the current Kid was. The old suspicions about the gunshot wound to the knee resurfaced. He’d never caught the shooter. It could have been one of the mystery snipers. Saguru rubbed his bad knee at the thought, paling with remembered agony. He had thought he was going to die, then. With the shock and later infection, he nearly had.

Kuroba’s face twisted. His lips tried to pull a flat line and a grimace at the same time. If only Saguru could see into his head. The look in Kuroba’s eyes almost could be seen as guilt, which didn’t make any sense at all. “Just don’t,” he repeated. “I know you’re here and that if my life was in danger you’d put aside your sense of justice and help. That’s more than enough.”

“Fine.” It was too late at night to be pressing the issue. Saguru scrubbed his eyes and waved a hand. “Go to bed, Kuroba.”

Kuroba exhaled with an edge of laughter. “I try to get you to go to bed and you turn it around on me. Typical and hypocritical.”

“I’ll sleep when you’re gone.” He heard Kuroba cross the room. Cloth pressed into the hand still hanging vaguely in the air from shooing his neighbor.

“Change first.”

Saguru opened his eyes to Kuroba closing Saguru’s fingers around pajamas and looking tired. He took them and stepped aside, letting Kuroba exit the front door properly instead of climbing back out the window.

“Goodnight,” Kuroba said. He paused at the door. “You know, you could always visit me. I’m sure you need to vent sometimes as much as the next person.”

“You’d only laugh and support the students acting out,” Saguru said as dry as he could manage while falling asleep standing up.

Kuroba laughed. “But you have to admit it would be fun arguing about something ridiculous again.”

“Goodnight, Kuroba,” Saguru said firmly. He made a shooing gesture again. The door clicked open and shut. The lock snicked tight—locked from the outside meaning either lock picks or Kuroba had a copy of Saguru’s key; he was betting the latter.

Saguru changed into his night clothes methodically and mindlessly, his brain turning Kuroba’s parting words over and over. Why hadn’t he tried to enter Kuroba’s home? A strange reluctance to examine Kuroba’s life? Benefits of plausible deniability because he had never glanced around the apartment for proof of Kid? Or was it habit because Kuroba always came to him? Saguru curled in his futon and pulled the blankets as high as they would go. No more thinking. He was not rested enough to puzzle out Takumi let alone his own behavioral process. Perhaps he would actually sleep enough to think properly in the morning this time.

***

The pranking stopped three days later. The watching started instead. Saguru wasn’t sure if it was much better honestly.

In the classroom, in the hallway, in homeroom, and at the weekly literature club meeting, Takumi did nothing but watch. Even Momoi noticed and called him out on it. Takumi blustered his way out of it, but Saguru bet she would get him to talk faster than either of his parents would. She intrigued him—and mildly terrified Saguru with her card shark skills—into attending every literature club meeting and keeping up with the reading. Saguru was still questioning if the choice was wise for his health, but he was accumulating a much more eclectic range of reading material than he would choose on his own, and that was not a bad thing. Even if he still couldn’t get Momoi to agree that Sherlock Holmes was a prime example of detective literature.

Saguru sighed, and went through his lists, the school day over for the moment. He had home visits lined up for the next week and a half. Really they should have been done by now, but he had had trouble contacting a few of his students’ parents, and several other parents had switched what times they were available on him. It was almost Golden Week for goodness sake. One of his meetings was even running into the holiday week. It was ridiculous. While he was all for parental meetings, and could see the advantage to meeting in a student’s home, he missed having the parents come to him rather than the other way around.

Takumi’s home visit was in two days. Tonight Saguru had three meetings and grocery shopping to get through. Well. Meetings first, then grocery shopping, then sleeping as much as possible. Not much grading was going to get done this week. Who was first on the list? Yamaguchi Hinata? Well, at least the address was close to the station…less walking required.

***

Saguru’s impressions of the three families he visited that evening were largely neutral. Nothing stood out from the first and third, while there were a bit of concerning signs of alcoholism in the second home, likely the father, he was also aware that to some extent many Japanese businessmen were functioning alcoholics. It was a little detail that he made a mental note of in case it came back up again.

In all cases, Saguru thanked the families for their time and was sent on his way with small containers of snacks. That was a plus of home visits as the food gifts had helped get him through the week. If his cupboards weren’t currently more or less bare, he’d head home now. But if Saguru didn’t get groceries now, he wouldn’t get them tomorrow either. He would get them now, find a quick meal for the night and call it a day. Although after snacks and tea at three homes, Saguru couldn’t say he was all that hungry at the moment.

The store Saguru went to was as close to the rail station as he could manage, small, with far less selection than he would like. If he wanted foodstuffs that he was more used to eating, he would have to seek the far more expensive and distant foreign markets, and he wasn’t going to put effort into that unless he needed tea. Tea was more important than finding spices he was used to or a brand of crisps he preferred.

Shopping was a chore. Managing a basket and a cane was impractical, using one of the rare available carts was more practical but they were difficult to maneuver as he needed more leverage to turn at times than his bad leg cold give him when the cart got heavier. And then he had to carry everything back. He missed shopping with someone. It was infinitely simpler when there was someone else to help split the load. Back when he still lived with his parents, the number of times he went shopping at all had been rare and few.

It was an evil necessity, Saguru decided as he moved through aisles of fresh produce, checking what was on sale and at its peak of freshness. Items went into his cart with efficiency and limited to his culinary ability—carrots, potatoes, and beans as they were familiar, and peas to add to his lunch. Skip fruit as it was currently too expensive—though a sale was coming for peaches that he noted for the future. Enough fish for tomorrow’s dinner, chicken as protein for the rest of the week, skip over the tofu as he had yet to figure out how to make it palatable to his taste and not set his kitchen on fire.  It was all terribly dull, tossing meal ideas around his head as he wandered down the aisles. He never got in the habit of planning out his week’s worth of meals to shop for. Saguru walked into the store and devised meal plans as he went through the aisles, the food giving him more ideas than staring at a piece of paper and trying to come up with something. Mel had despaired over it and had taken over grocery shopping and meal planning. It wasn’t that Saguru came back with too many groceries or ridiculously expensive arrays of food. He just tended to end up with unusual combinations, and since Mel did most of the cooking it made more sense for Mel to get food he wanted to prepare.  Saguru smiled, picturing Mel’s frustration at a Japanese market where he couldn’t find the spices or half the ingredients he was working with. He’d probably take it as a challenge. Saguru almost laughed, but as his fingers brushed a carton of eggs the reminder that he wouldn’t see Mel’s determined-to-make-food-work face anymore left him feeling hollow. It was almost a year now. He would think that it would stop hitting him quite so hard by now.

Saguru rubbed his eyes as he turned into a snack aisle. He pulled a package of his favorite _senbei_ into his cart and bypassed the rest, already plotting his course for rice, noodles, and flour. He reached the end of the aisle, turned, and the cart was jarred out of his grip as something—another cart—slammed into its side.

“Sorry! Sorry!” a young voice yelped.

Saguru pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to breathe even and slow. Because he had just been hit by Kuroba Takumi. And Saguru did not feel up to dealing with Takumi at the moment.

“Hakuba-sensei?” Takumi squeaked with something akin to horror. Saguru looked. Ah, mortification. And Aoko was behind Takumi looking amused, annoyed, and surprised all at once. Saguru nodded to her as Takumi backed his cart away, giving Saguru enough room to retrieve his own cart that was listing off to the side toward a stack of sports drinks.

“Good evening, Kuroba-kun, Aoko-san.” He nodded to Aoko, leaning on the cart. Her eyes flicked to the cane he had hoped she would overlook.

“Hakuba-san.” She smiled. Something in Saguru relaxed. Despite how their phone call had ended cordially, he had half expected her to be annoyed or suspicious or something like in high school.

Takumi glanced between them and positioned himself in front of his mother acting casually like it wasn’t calculated. “ _You made her cry_ ,” he had said. “What are you doing here, Hakuba-sensei?” he asked.

Saguru raised an eyebrow. He waved a hand at his cart. “Shopping.” Takumi flushed; Saguru knew he wouldn’t have asked such an obvious question if his mother hadn’t been there. It felt like an ill thought out attempt to switch attention to him rather than Aoko.

Aoko pushed Takumi aside with a firm hand on his back. “Takumi, go get the snacks you wanted.”

“But Kaa-san—”

“Go. _Senbei_ , chips, wasabi peas….whatever you want for your sleepover.” Aoko stared her son down with a look Saguru could picture being leveled at criminals. Takumi’s shoulders lifted toward his ears in a defensive slouch and he glanced at Saguru. Aoko cleared her throat and Takumi maneuvered his cart down the aisle Saguru had just left. “And get some Pucca to slip into your father’s cupboards! It’ll be worth the laugh as he debates whether the chocolate is worth the fish shaped pretzel shells,” she called after him.

Saguru stifled a laugh. “I’m not sure if that’s kind or cruel of you,” he said. Kuroba loved chocolate but on the other hand…fish. It wasn’t a weakness he had exploited though—that seemed to be reserved to Aoko.

“If he can’t be half-assed to do his own shopping this week, he can deal with the results,” Aoko grumped. “It’s not like I’m leaving a fish head in his fridge or anything.” She grinned after a second. “Though I bet his reaction would be great.”

“He’d likely wake me from a dead sleep in the middle of the night,” Saguru said, equally amused.

She laughed. It made her eyes scrunch in a way that called attention to laugh lines, and Saguru was glad that no matter what might have happened with Kuroba, she still laughed enough to form wrinkles. Aoko glanced past Saguru’s shoulder toward Takumi, checking to see how close he was before leaning in. “About what we mentioned on the phone…you meant it right?”

Saguru rewound his mind to the conversation. “About K—Kid? Yes. I meant what I said. I won’t be trying to catch him myself. And I won’t turn our mutual acquaintance in.”

“Mm.” She nodded. “Good. I had to make sure.” Her eyes sparkled with warmth and a bit of mischief. “With that clear, would you be interested in coming to the next heist? Seeing you there might trip him up completely.”

He blinked. Go to a Kid heist? “I’m…not sure that would be the best idea.”

“Not up for the chase anymore?” Aoko teased.

Saguru glanced at his bad leg and cane pointedly. She winced.

“Okay, bad choice in wording. I meant more the intellectual experience not…”

“No, I understand.” Saguru gave her an apologetic smile, though he felt weary more than anything else. “I do not think it would be wise to go for reasons beyond my leg. It brings back a few more recent bad memories and I wouldn’t be much use to anyone then.” If he went to a heist with all the police there, it would make him think of Mel, and that night, and if there was a sniper…Saguru wouldn’t be able to handle it. He’d end up back in the depressive spiral he had moved to Japan to escape.

Aoko looked confused for a moment, then oddly guilty. “I’m…I’m sorry,” she said after a moment.

“For what? It is hardly your fault for my personal difficulties.”

“I…” She looked away, guilt and embarrassment in the set of her jaw and her downward gaze. “When I heard you were Takumi’s English teacher I wondered why you were back now after so long and…and I looked some things up after our phone call. I’m sorry about Meallán.”

Saguru’s stomach twisted unpleasantly at hearing Mel’s name, mispronounced but still clear. Japan was the last place he had expected to hear it again unless he brought it up first or his parents tried to corner him into talking. “I would rather not talk about this in the middle of a grocery store,” he said stiffly.

Aoko looked even more uncomfortable. She glanced over Saguru’s shoulder again. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. Her hands twisted around her purse strap. She never used to wear a purse in high school. Even after she started dating Kuroba, she was more of a tomboy. She wore dresses and skirts often enough, but she always moved like she was wearing pants. That she hadn’t been overly feminine had attracted Saguru at one point. How much had she changed since then?

It seemed that neither of them knew how to interact with each other. It was so painfully opposite of his reunion with Kuroba that Saguru didn’t know where to start. He cleared his throat. “I suppose I will be seeing you in a week.”

“Ah…yes.” Aoko bit her lip, looking conflicted and a bit hurt.

“We can discuss Takumi-kun’s school performance then?” Saguru prompted. When in doubt, fall back on professionalism.

“Of course.” Aoko forced a smile. “I’d like to hear how his studies are going. He avoids talking about school unless it involves sports or a madcap adventure with his friends.”

“Please tell me you aren’t telling embarrassing stories about me again,” Takumi said from behind Saguru’s left shoulder.

Saguru flinched, putting too much weight on his bad knee and freezing up in pain. Aoko looked concerned as Saguru straightened up, using the cart for support more than he was willing to admit. “It has been a long day,” he said through gritted teeth. He looked away. “I should be going.”

“We’re going the same way,” Aoko offered. “I need to drop things off at Kaito’s…”

Saguru gripped the cart handle until his knuckles were white and his hands ached. His chest felt tight and he could feel his heartbeat in his knee. “I apologize; I need to finish my shopping.”

Silence, and it was more of the strange, uncomfortable gulf of years between them. If he looked up, Saguru was sure he would see Aoko’s lips press together like they used to do when Kuroba inadvertently hurt her feelings and her eyes go distant and full of discomfort. Saguru couldn’t afford tact when he felt like he was going to either splinter into a thousand shattered pieces or lash out because he felt cornered.

“Kaa-san?” Takumi said uneasily.

“I’ll see you in a week, Aoko-san,” Saguru repeated. Hopefully Aoko didn’t take it too personally. How was she to know he was coping with avoidance and she was one step away from destroying that?

“Take care, Hakuba-san,” Aoko murmured back.

He didn’t look back to see her expression or to acknowledge Takumi. He pushed past them as fast as his leg would allow and didn’t stop until he was in the middle of the frozen food section, half the store away from where he left them.

***

Saguru spent another night staring at the ceiling. He hadn’t stopped shaking when he finally got his groceries home. His hands shook like a man in the second stages of withdrawal and he had given up the thought of any sort of dinner. The papers that needed graded had been left on the table along with all the groceries that didn’t require refrigeration. Saguru hadn’t had the energy to bathe. It had taken everything to roll out his futon and lay down still clothed. His knee still wouldn’t bend right. The therapist he had been seeing before he ran from England had told him that the pain in his wounded leg was partly psychological. Saguru had to agree. It never hurt or lost as much mobility as when he was upset.

The ceiling was too blank. He needed to put something up there to study if he spent so many nights staring at nothing. Every time his eyes closed Mel flashed before his eyes, mouth somewhere between a smile and a grimace as they had been taken off guard. They had been relaxed. Calm. Saguru had cried the first time he smiled after Mel’s death because the last time he smiled, Mel had died. The only thing Saguru had to be thankful for was that that first horror of Mel dying hadn’t been a head shot. If his last moment of Mel’s smile had been seeing it explode into brain matter Saguru might really have killed himself trying to avoid sleep. Still, sometimes Saguru wondered if it wasn’t worse that Mel hadn’t seen it coming. It meant that as the light died from his eyes, Saguru had been staring into them. Somehow it was worse that it hadn’t been instantaneous, but a drawn out battle in the hospital because it had dragged hope on that much longer.

One of the bullets had grazed Saguru’s side as it passed through Meallán’s body. Saguru hadn’t noticed until hours later when one of the paramedics realized that not all of the blood on Saguru was Mel’s.

He blinked stinging eyes, too dry from forcing them open. A rusty rail spike was being driven into his temples. Exhaustion headaches; his body got them as a warning as they were one of the only things he noticed back when he took cases. Not even he could hunt relentlessly when a migraine threatened to immobilize him.

It was one thing skirting around the topic with Kuroba. It was another having Aoko bring Mel’s name into a conversation without a hint of warning. Especially...especially as the date of his death was only a few weeks away. He wasn’t going to get any rest—between the nightmares that would come when he finally managed to fall asleep and the migraine he had, Saguru was guaranteed to have a miserable, sleep deprived day of teaching. Which would make the headaches worse.

Some days they’d fade if he kept still, quiet and the room dark.

The room was dark and quiet now and the headache was worse than it had been earlier.

He could take the prescription sleep pills still zipped in his suitcase. But that was a bad idea. He’d considered flushing the pills three times in the last month. Because having that many pills in one place was a bad thing. And they were addictive. And he didn’t want to be addicted to any medication again after his issues with pain medication in the past.

Next door the window slid open and shut; Kuroba entering or leaving, he couldn’t tell which. He couldn’t remember if Kuroba had stayed after Aoko and Takumi showed up with groceries or if he had left shortly after. Saguru could still here their muffled argument and Kuroba’s shriek at finding the fish-shaped snack among the groceries. He remembered Takumi telling them to shut up and slamming the apartment door on his way out. He remembered Aoko’s voice taking on a higher, tighter sound and Kuroba’s sharp, short responses. High school felt like a long time ago. It was a long time ago. God he felt old.

Saguru rolled over and tried to block the world and his body out. He was nowhere, no one, without a past or present or future. Just a passing thought that would dissipate in an instant.

Eventually, he slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Saguru didn't have so much shit haunting him, he'd figure Takumi out easier, but he's not in the right headspace. That said, I always had to wonder about his habit of asking criminals why they committed their crimes. Does he just want to see from their POV? Confirm theories? (because you don't have to know WHY to know who did it) In the end I settled on a desire to understand others because that's something he struggles with.


	6. Chapter 6

 

Saguru wasn’t sure how he was functioning. In the last forty-eight hours he had only managed to sleep roughly five hours and his headache hadn’t abated at all. Tuesday’s classes were a blur of pain and automatic teaching. It was a good thing that he knew his lesson plan inside and out, otherwise he was sure he would have lapsed into English his students couldn’t understand at all. The home visits were similar blurs of polite conversation, smatterings of details, and thankfulness for the warmth of the tea he was given that helped at least a little bit with his head.

Today’s class had passed much the same, though he was aware of a few more questions and hesitations in answering than the day before. Whether it was due to being less coherent in his explanations or actually having greater awareness than the day before, he wasn’t sure. The two home visits before Takumi’s had gone without problem (although he couldn’t remember when he had been handed the white bean jelly). He had Aoko to visit, then Kuroba, and then just maybe he would be too exhausted to do anything but sleep.

Saguru squinted at the address on the list he had printed out. The words blurred on the page, but his reading glasses were at home on the kitchen table with a backlog of papers to grade and his favorite pen. He was vaguely sure that it was a street or two away from where she and Kuroba had grown up. It was a rent-house district with two families per home, one per half a building, and a shared bath. He’d looked it up last week when he was familiarizing himself with the addresses of all the students in his homeroom. Of course it was the second furthest home on the list from the subways. Thankfully the bus system could get him a bit closer to save his leg a bit. There was a lot more walking in Japan than he had dealt with in London, perhaps because in London he had owned a car and had had the convenience of living not far from his job. While his leg felt worse than ever, he supposed that it was getting more exercise than it had in years which wasn’t entirely a bad thing.

He took the next right. It was only a quarter of the way down the street to the correct house. There was a name plate with Kuroba on it. It felt strange to think of Aoko as a Kuroba instead of a Nakamori. It was probably significant that she hadn’t changed her name back after the divorce. Saguru wasn’t in the state of mind to fully appreciate the possibilities though. He rang the doorbell.

It took a minute for the door to open. Saguru stared blankly at the name plate, the one that marked the right-hand door as the Kuroba residence, not the Yamaguchi residence. The name plate was scratched. The name was scored through the way someone might key a car, but only the last name, not Aoko’s first name. The door opened. Takumi stood in the doorway, tense and unhappy.

“Good evening,” Saguru said, manners on autopilot.

Takumi stepped aside stiffly. “Come in.”

Saguru entered and swapped his shoes for the guest slippers set out for him. The house smelled like coffee, oil from frying something, and the starchiness of rice. It wasn’t a fresh scent, more a lingering one from the last meal, but it made the place feel lived in immediately where at one of his earlier home visits, the house had felt sterile. Saguru left his things with his shoes.

“Kaa-san,” Takumi called, walking further into the house without a backward glance to see if Saguru was following. “Hakuba-sensei’s here.”

“Ah, Hakuba-san, welcome,” Aoko said from further in the house. Her head poked around the doorway of a room Saguru guessed was the kitchen-dining space. “I was just putting tea on to boil.”

For a moment he felt inexplicably shy. She and Takumi were present in little details all around him; the pictures on the walls, the scuffs on the door frames, smudges on the paint at different levels showing different stains left by Takumi as a child, the way he could see patches of dust among clean bits where things had been hastily tidied. In a home so full of its occupants’ presences, he felt like an intruder. Like if he stepped wrong and made his own marks, they would stand out rather than blending in and it was a strangely upsetting thought.

He pushed it aside. Aoko was still smiling at him, and he bowed to her politely. “Pardon the intrusion.”

She laughed. “No intrusion at all! Come to the kitchen. Ignore Takumi; he told me he’d rather not be around if he doesn’t have to be. He doesn’t have to, does he?”

“No,” Saguru said. He let her usher him into the kitchen to a seat at the table. A tea cup was set at his elbow, currently empty. An electric kettle was bubbling on the counter, maybe half a minute away from being ready. “If I hadn’t already observed you interacting with him, I might have him stay, but from what I have seen you two appear to have a fairly stable and healthy relationship.”

Aoko nodded, getting her own cup and a can of loose leaf tea from the cupboard. A strainer joined it from a drawer. “You’d have to check, I understand. I imagine it’s more difficult when students have broken families.”

“In some ways it is,” Saguru agreed, thinking of how he had to make two separate home visits. “But often those homes aren’t the ones having problems.” Many of the problems were remnants from old ones, but at least they tended to be acknowledged problems. It was the seemingly perfect homes that had the worst secrets and it made him upset when he had to sit in a room and pretend nothing was wrong. He could imagine how much worse it was for the child in those situations.

The kettle rumbled with steam and Aoko took it and poured tea for Saguru first, then herself. “It’s caffeinated,” she said. “You look dead on your feet.”

“Thank you.” Saguru breathed in the tea’s scent. It was dark and with almost floral undertones.

“Long week?” Aoko asked.

“You have no idea.”

“Have you even been sleeping?”

“Not enough.” He rubbed his eyes, letting himself slip from his professional mode for a moment. “The weekend cannot come soon enough.”

Aoko hummed sympathetically. “Funny how we used to think the same thing when we were in high school, but when you get down to it, we were never as bone tired then, hmm?”

“True.” He breathed in the tea again, taking strength from it. He just had Kuroba after this and then he could sleep. “I hope you are doing well?”

“Well enough.” Aoko stirred a small spoonful of sugar into her tea, something Saguru could remember Kaito doing when they were younger that he didn’t seem to do anymore. She wore her wedding ring. She hadn’t worn it at the store or when she picked up Takumi, granted his memory of that wasn’t very clear. Kuroba didn’t wear his ring. Was he overthinking things?

There were dishes in the dish rack. A rice cooker tucked back against the wall. The kitchen table had dents all along the edge closest to the stove, but not the other side, like it had been hit with pots or plates when its owners were in a rush but was rarely moved. For the life of him, Saguru wasn’t sure what to say.

He opened his mouth and the same automatic teacher mode that had gotten him through the day came tumbling out. “Takumi-kun is doing well in his classes. He is a hard worker. Occasionally prone to day dreaming, but he picks up on concepts quickly and remembers them well.”

“Has he given you any more trouble?” Aoko asked.

Saguru shook his head. “Nothing much. He still pranks me on occasion, but it is non-disruptive. Nothing I cannot handle. Of late he seems to have stopped.”

Aoko frowned. “He shouldn’t be doing it at all.”

“I believe there are reasons behind it, and eventually Takumi-kun will be upfront with those reasons, but until then it is not a problem.” Saguru drank his tea and felt warmth sink through him. He relaxed fractionally. “He does well in my class despite this. He hasn’t had much experience with proper pronunciations, but he can hear and repeat them better than many of his classmates once given the chance. He also picks up and retains vocabulary well. Grammar, on the other hand, is something he needs improvement on, but I have full confidence that he can do well there also.” He turned the cup around in his hand. Iris patterned, like Kuroba’s teacup had been, but this one was Japanese styled without a handle where Kuroba’s had been Western. “His other teachers have only good things to say, except that he could participate more as he usually knows answers.”

“He’s a lot like Kaito,” Aoko said, “smart and has a great memory. He isn’t as fond of being the center of attention though.”

Saguru nodded. Kuroba had described his son as a flirt, Saguru remembered, but in school Saguru hadn’t seen any sign of that. Takumi had stood out on occasion, but he hasn’t seemed comfortable with attention for long. He had the skill, but not the temperament of a showman. “I’ve noticed that he prefers to let Momoi-san take that role.”

Aoko smiled. “Shiemi-chan has a strong presence, doesn’t she?”

“That is one way of putting it.”

Aoko laughed. “She’s a good person, just intense. I’m glad Takumi has her for a friend. He has a lot of friends, but not many people he can open up to.”

That was a feeling Saguru knew too well, that Kuroba and Aoko likely also knew. Aoko had always been a bit better about it than he or Kuroba though. He wondered who Kuroba was friends with these days. Coworkers? The hypothetical Kid partner? “I don’t think there’s anything to worry about academically with him. He’ll adjust to anything new he learns quickly.”

“I never had a doubt in my mind that he’d do well,” Aoko said. They finished the dregs of their tea. “I only worry about how he’s doing emotionally. He…doesn’t talk about things with me as often as he used to.”

“No doubt part of growing up.” Saguru had his doubts though. The answer was in the reason for Takumi’s actions against Saguru.

Aoko hummed, neither assent nor dismissal. “I can’t help but wonder how things with Kaito have affected him. We aren’t calm people and we’re worse when we have to interact.”

Saguru remembered Aoko yelling at Kuroba’s door. No, he didn’t need to imagine what kind of explosive interactions Takumi had witnessed over the years. He had enough memories of their interactions to make educated guesses. “I am sure he cares for both of you,” Saguru said, thinking of how Takumi had stood between Saguru and his mother because he was afraid Saguru would make her cry again. How he’d leaned into Kuroba’s hug before he pretended to be embarrassed by it. “As someone who lived most of my life traveling between two households, it isn’t easy even when your parents get along well.” His mother and father had split more for Saguru’s sake and their careers than anything else and had never stopped caring for each other. That they lived together in Japan now was testament to that. “Seeing Takumi-kun, I feel you have done well raising him. He is a good kid.”

Aoko looked at him, smiling sadly. He wasn’t sure his words had hit their mark, but he’d tried. “Thank you for saying so. Even with all the trouble he’s caused you.”

“If I disliked trouble, I wouldn’t be teaching.” Or be interacting with Kuroba.

“Just another outlet for it since you’re no longer facing down criminals.”

“Facing down delinquents doesn’t have quite the same flair.”

Aoko smiled like he’d meant for her to. She looked down at her hands, at the ring there. She was working up to saying something and Saguru closed his eyes knowing he’d rather she didn’t say whatever she planned to. “I apologize,” she said, “for what I said at the grocery store. I overstepped your boundaries and invaded your privacy.”

Weariness swept through him. The lingering warmth from the tea was gone, as was the brief moment of connection. He didn’t want to talk about this. “Aoko-san. Please. The apology is appreciated, but…”

“It’s too soon to think about,” she finished with understanding.

“A year isn’t much compared to almost twelve years.” Aoko’s pot holder next to the stove was scarred and fraying with scorch marks along its side. Aoko had had trouble with cooking once. Did she still? Did Kuroba? Saguru still couldn’t cook well but that was because—.

He realized he was sitting too stiffly and his right hand was gripping his knee so hard that it was going numb rather than shooting out pain like it usually did. There was a sound on the edge of his hearing, off to his right, toward the doorway. Takumi? Possibly. Aoko’s hand on his elbow made him flinch.

She looked worried and frustrated. “I seem to only make things worse, don’t I?”

“I make them worse on myself,” Saguru admitted. There were a hundred things he could add to that, but even if he once knew Nakamori Aoko, they had never been close, and he was not close to this Aoko. “I should be going. I still have Kuroba to speak to before the night is out.”

“Of course.” Her shoulders slumped the slightest bit before squaring. “I know we weren’t close friends back in high school, but if you ever need an ear to listen, I’m here.”

“Thank you,” Saguru said. He stood up, braced on his cane to steady himself, and waited for her to walk him to the door. “If there are any concerns with Takumi-kun, I will call as well,” he said, pushing back for professionalism.

“Of course.” Aoko stood and looked at him uncertainly for a moment. “…do you see Kaito often?”

“We’re neighbors.”

It was a non-answer and she knew it, but she didn’t press. “It was good seeing you,” she said when they reached the door. “Take care, okay?”

“And you as well.” There was Takumi lurking in the background, watching but not approaching. He turned away when he saw Saguru looking, retreating back to what was probably his bedroom. Saguru slid his shoes on, bowed, and walked out the door.

***

Kuroba answered the door on the first knock, took one look, and stood aside to let Saguru in. “I’d offer you something with alcohol, but you don’t drink,” he said as Saguru struggled out of his shoes.

Saguru laughed weakly. “I’m sorely tempted and that is exactly why I have to refuse.”

Kuroba nodded, looking worried at how heavily Saguru was leaning on his cane.

“Too much walking,” Saguru explained. “And movement in general in addition to mental stress.”

“It’s part psychosomatic?”

“Yes. It has always given me physical trouble, but it only hurts this badly when I’m strained in other ways.”

“Sit,” Kuroba said, nodding past the entryway. “And don’t bother with slippers; sock feet are good enough.”

“Thank you.” While sliding his feet into slippers wouldn’t have taken much effort, it was easier to move without trying to keep something on his feet for the moment. Saguru stepped into the apartment proper, taking in the differences in layout from his own apartment in a glance. There were more tatami, leading to perhaps a half again as wide room. The kitchens were similarly placed opposite the washroom and bath, but the extra space allowed for a kitchen table with three chares across from the stove, and for one corner to be used as a living room. Kuroba had an arm chair and a small couch forming a square around a television set. There were shelves set against the walls with books and board games and puzzles that Saguru could picture a younger Takumi playing with. Somehow there managed to be a clock along every wall, most blinking with red LED numerals, and one an elegant analogue clock on a thin strip of wall between two doors that Saguru assumed led to bedrooms. It felt lived in the same way Aoko’s home had felt lived in, with Kuroba’s personality coming out in the eclectic mix of book topics, or magician’s tools set alongside a traditional beckoning cat.

Kuroba watched him take in the details, unreadable. “I did say sit,” he said mildly.

Saguru blinked at him. He had been living next to Kuroba for over a month now and this was the first time he’d seen the inside of his apartment. The curiosity almost pushed aside his exhaustion. Kuroba lifted an eyebrow and pulled out a kitchen chair. Saguru eased himself onto it. “Thank you.”

“You can look around,” Kuroba said, setting a cup of tea in front of Saguru—pre-prepared? From the scent it was the _genmaicha_ he had shared once before. Grounding and warm. “I keep anything incriminating in my bedroom.”

It was said like a joke, but it was truth. Saguru sighed. “I wasn’t looking for signs of Kid in your home, Kuroba. I was looking to see what sort of space _you_ call home.”

“And what’s it telling you?” Kuroba leaned against his sink and sipped a cup of tea. Saguru hadn’t seen where he pulled the cup from, but it hadn’t involved opening any of the cupboards.

“You have a wide range of interests. You are proficient in at least two languages other than Japanese. You and Takumi-kun used to spend a good deal of time together in this room playing games and learning sleight of hand.” Saguru lingered over the dull and faded game boxes—dull from a layer of dust? “You do not spend as much time doing such activities as you used to together. And you overwater your plant,” Saguru added, indicating the potted lady palm’s yellow-edged leaves.

Kuroba relaxed, laughing, and it was true relaxation as his shoulders drooped and he actually put his weight against the counter rather than balancing against it. “I overwater my plant.”

“Yes. It’s rather unfortunate; it’s such a well-proportioned plant.”

“I never knew you had interest in horticulture, Hakuba.”

“I don’t. My mother, however, filled our home with a myriad of plants growing up.”

“You don’t say.” Kuroba smiled before it returned to the worried expression he’d had when he opened the door. “You look like shit.”

“I will sleep better once home visits are completed,” Saguru said. It was one of the reasons he was sleeping poorly at any rate.

“I was surprised that they had home visits; a lot of schools aren’t doing them anymore, and usually it’s more of an elementary and middle school thing than a high school one. They didn’t do home visits when we went there.”

“I wouldn’t know. I joined in second year. In England, home visits aren’t a thing.” Saguru rolled his shoulders to let some of the tension from them. The _genmaicha_ was refreshing on his tongue. It was the seventh cup of tea he had had that day. Sometimes he felt all he drank was tea. He supposed there were worse drinks to be swimming in. “I am uncertain if I am even doing home visits correctly.”

“See the house and parents, talk about the kid to get to know them a bit, try and see what their future plans are,” Kuroba shrugged. “It’s not too difficult.”

“I was treating it more like a parent-teacher conference with a chance to view each student’s living environment,” Saguru said. “Mostly looking at what their strengths are and what things they are struggling with and discussing any behavioral issues that have cropped up as well. I had forgotten the career support aspects.”

“It’s only first year. Most students probably aren’t even thinking that far ahead this early in the year.”

“True.” The tension that had been lingering in Saguru since he left Aoko’s home finally released him. It was odd to think that Kuroba of all people was a calming force in his life. Yet here he was, relaxing after just a few minutes of being in his presence. His earlier headache was even fading. Saguru’s high school self would have been horrified.

“What’s funny?” Kuroba asked.

Saguru shook his head, unable to remove the smile from his face. “Merely thinking at how things change.”

“Hm. How’s Aoko?”

“Tired but in good health. I do not think she has been sleeping well lately.” He frowned. “I do hope that I am not part of the reason.”

“Why would you be?”

“The few conversations I have had with Aoko-san since I have returned have not gone well,” Saguru admitted. “In part because Aoko-san now has the curiosity of a detective paired with her past straightforwardness which has led to her referring to my reasons for being in Japan.”

“Ah.” Kuroba moved to sit next to Saguru. “So basically making you think about things you don’t want to think about with no warning.”

“More or less.” Saguru sipped his tea. “From how she attempted to apologize today, she feels guilty for my reaction and for looking into my personal business.”

“Well, she shouldn’t have.”

“So you expect me to believe you haven’t looked into my life since I returned?” Saguru asked skeptically. Kuroba had always been meticulous in his research. If he thought for a moment that Saguru would be a threat, he would look for any information to better understand Saguru, and to perhaps better copy him if need be. As for Aoko…Saguru could understand why she would look into a man who had once been a detective set on capturing Kid.

“I looked into surface things, but I didn’t dig.” Kuroba leaned, seemingly casual, on one hand. Saguru knew better. He was bracing for an angry response. “I figured after our first conversation that if you wanted me to know you’d talk about it, and if you didn’t, I’d know just enough to know what not to bring up.”

“That is more restraint than I was expecting,” Saguru said. He sighed. “Truly, it isn’t a secret. There is nothing wrong with my past being looked into; I merely have no desire to dwell on it more than I already do, and do not like being blindsided by it.”

“Understandable.” Kuroba stretched, his back and neck making a series of soft cricks and pops. “So. Feeling any better?”

“…Yes actually.” Saguru glanced at his half-empty cup of tea. Kuroba wouldn’t spike it would he?

“Relax, there’s nothing in it but tea,” Kuroba said.

“Good. Or else next time I would have refused any drink you offered and I quite like your taste in teas.”

Kuroba laughed. Saguru sipped at his tea.

“You likely know better than Aoko-san how Takumi-kun is doing in school,” Saguru said, reminding himself of the reason he was visiting.

“Pretty much,” Kuroba said. “I keep close tabs on how he’s doing in his classes so I can be helpful if he needs it.”

Saguru nodded. He hadn’t expected any less. “And how is Takumi-kun emotionally?” Saguru asked. It was easier to ask Kuroba than it would have been to ask Aoko despite her being the primary caregiver.

“So far as I can tell, he seems to be adjusting to high school fine. He’s glad to be around Shiemi-chan again since they’re a year apart. He’s becoming a teenager,” Kuroba said. “He is less open about what he’s thinking or feeling, would rather be on his own more, and his interests are changing. He used to be invested in Aoko’s police work, but lately he’s been reading books on anatomy and kinesiology. That made me think he might be interested in medical or physical therapy, but he doesn’t talk about it. He’s stopped by less often, but he has club activities.”

“…Does he resent you or Aoko?” Saguru asked cautiously.

“Resent?” Kuroba shrugged. “Not so far as I can tell. He respects Aoko more than he does me, but tests her boundaries more. He comes to me when he’s fighting with her or just to escape.” He set the cup down. “This is about him acting out.”

“Pondering over theories,” Saguru said. “He’s never tried to get the two of you back together?”

“He’d try and get us to do things together when he was little, and we’d sometimes go places or out to dinner. We’d keep it civil. But that stopped early on in elementary school, and now we usually only do some sort of outing about one day a year.” Kuroba shrugged, looking a little sad. “It couldn’t have been comfortable to watch Aoko and I interact back then. It’s still probably not comfortable.”

Saguru nodded and tucked the matter away again to investigate another time.

“What are your plans for Golden Week?” Kuroba asked, changing the topic.

 _Sleep_ , Saguru thought, but no, he had actual plans. “I am visiting my parents for a few days. I haven’t taken the time to do so since they helped me move in.”

“Considering how close they live…”

“Exactly.” Saguru quirked a smile. “Mum is a bit annoyed.” More worried than annoyed based on some of her messages. Saguru supposed he should reply to more than one of every three of them, but sometimes Mum was stifling. His father tended to be far more hands off and if he had concerns, he tended not to voice them, or showed them in roundabout ways. He was the one that made sure Saguru’s apartment was furnished with everything Saguru would need. It felt odd to be a grown man and yet still fall back on his parents.

“The last thing you want to do is annoy mothers,” Kuroba said laughing. “They know all your weaknesses.” The wall clock chimed the hour, a sound he’d heard through the walls faintly but had never really placed. “Takumi’s staying with me for a few days, but he’s spending Children’s Day with Aoko.”

“Do you plan on going anywhere?”

“No.” Kuroba shook his head. “Hell, travel is the last thing I’d want to do for Golden Week; it’s way too crowded. If I wanted a vacation, I’d use my hoarded time off during one of Takumi’s breaks.”

“Point.” Saguru had traveled in Golden Week before. He’d gotten a headache from the crush of people, and that had been before he had trouble with his right leg.

“Thankfully I’m not needed at the museum in Golden Week. If I wasn’t someone behind the scenes they’d need me.”

Another good point; Saguru hadn’t considered that Kuroba would need to work, but with so many people on vacation, there would have to be even more people not working to keep up with the demands of vacationers. “Aoko-san isn’t working?”

“Aoko’s Kid task force. And Kid isn’t going to hold a heist this Golden Week.”

“One would think with all the chaos it would be the perfect time.”

Kuroba shrugged. “It would be. But sometimes family is more important.”

There was a flatness in how he said it that indicated family was always important, but that it wasn’t always possible to show it. Kuroba worked around his life to fit in Kid, and he’d made one too many sacrifices for his alter ego already. “Well, here’s to a week of family time,” Saguru said, raising his cup of tea in a mock toast.

“I should talk Takumi into a day with my mom. She always says she doesn’t see him enough.”

“Is she well?” Saguru had never met Kuroba Chikage. He imagined any woman who had raised Kuroba would have to be formidable though.

“Fine,” Kuroba said. “Getting gray hairs which she hates—I swear, she uses stage makeup skills to keep herself looking a decade younger than she is, but she’s as hale as ever. I visit about once a week when she’s in town.”

“I imagine she still has the same home as when you were a child?” Saguru imagined that was where the majority of Kid’s supplies stayed these days. No amount of creative squirreling away could contain all of Kuroba’s tools in such a small apartment.

“Yes.” Kuroba looked unimpressed. “You’re doing the detective thing, aren’t you?”

“It doesn’t turn itself off,” Saguru said. “I really would if I could.”

Kuroba scoffed. “You’d miss it. You’re not you without noticing more than the average person.”

Saguru smiled and privately thought Kuroba would not be Kuroba without that trait either.

“To answer your line of thought, yes, Kaa-san’s place is my home base even if I don’t live there. I can’t even keep my doves here,” Kuroba sighed.

“So you do still keep doves?”

“Of course. A well trained bird is invaluable. And what kind of showman would I be without my birds?”

“Presumably a retired one.”

Kuroba rolled his eyes. “When I said being a magician didn’t work out, I didn’t mean I was bad at it or retired. It…brought on a few too many flashbacks in the end. Working with big crowds anyway. You’d think the whole Kid thing would mean I’d be fine, but...”

“Oh.” Kuroba didn’t look troubled about admitting that. In fact his shoulders were relaxed. He’d told the truth and something personal and it hadn’t bothered him to admit it to Saguru. “That is a pity. You always had a gift for it.”

“I had a lot of hard work put into it,” Kuroba corrected, “but I guess I had a decent amount of talent too. I still do birthday parties for coworker’s kids and things like that. Nothing on stage. It’s probably safer that way too.”

Kuroba’s father had died in a stage accident, Saguru remembered. Or it had nominally been an accident. There were enough parallels with Kuroba and his father already that he supposed it was best that that particular one was being avoided.

“I like the doves though. I smuggle one or two here sometimes, but we’re not really supposed to keep pets here.”

“How terrible of you,” Saguru joked drily. “Smuggling birds into this bird free zone.”

“Speaking of bird smuggling, how did you get that hawk of yours through customs?”

“Watson had all her papers filed and health tests receive positive feedback.” Saguru smiled. It had been years since he thought about her. “I will admit that it helped to have a father who was police commissioner.”

Kuroba laughed.

Saguru relaxed further into his seat and barely noticed the evening tipping into night as he and Kuroba exchanged stories about the care and keeping of birds at the opposite ends of the predator-prey spectrum.

***

Saguru celebrated the end of home visits by sleeping twelve hours straight. He woke with a crick in his neck and the woozy exhaustion of too much rest and considered it an achievement because he was sure he hadn’t slept so long so soundly in months. He hadn’t had a single nightmare either. The blinking digital clock informed him that it was after noon, and the sun was angled past the window by this point. There was a television on in both neighboring apartments—the unknown neighbor on his opposite side was home for once, likely off on vacation for the holiday week. Saguru helped himself to leftover takeaway and a cup of black tea to chase away the lingering fog of sleep.

He calculated that there was maybe three hours at most before a car was sent to pick him up to visit his family. It was tempting to leave in his old, worn out jeans and the holey t-shirt he’d put on since his pajamas were in need of a wash, but Mum would give her disapproving look and Otou-san would pretend he didn’t notice while silently judging. He’d change into slacks and a button down after breakfast. At least he didn’t need to pack for his stay; the majority of Saguru’s belongings from England were being stored at his parents’ home.

He both looked forward to and dreaded going home. He cared for his parents and got along with them fairly well the majority of the time. But they disagreed on some of Saguru’s life choices and were a bit over-protective at the moment.

The takeaway container went into recyclables and the mug of tea was refilled with a fresh cup. He had a stack of papers to make headway on in the time he had, and grading papers was a wonderful way to focus on small problems, like how many of his students failed to conjugate simple sentences. Clearly he needed to review some things. And do sentence diagrams again because subject-object confusion was happening in a high percentage of homework. Saguru loathed sentence diagrams. While he acknowledged that pictorial representations of sentences could be useful in determining their structure to many people, he personally found them distracting and overly complex. He much preferred deconstruction to diagramming, but clearly deconstruction method was failing to get the point across.

He graded a dozen more papers before there was a crash next door—Kuroba’s apartment, of course—and Saguru jumped, pen dragging across the page he was grading. He looked at the line sourly. The crash wasn’t repeated. Instead there was muffled laughter—young, so Takumi then. A prank? A magic trick gone wrong?

More time had passed than Saguru had thought when he glanced at the clock. He was still dressed in the clothing he’d slept in and had half a cup of cold tea at his elbow.

He had just changed into slacks when his phone lit up with a text informing him that his ride had arrived. Saguru finished buttoning his shirt, placed his tea mug in the sink to wash properly when he returned, and pulled on his shoes. Tying them was a pain, as usual, but a familiar one he had dealt with for decades now despite concerned individuals suggesting footwear that didn’t involve bending over to get on or off. He admitted to vanity with the choice to keep shoes with laces—shoes without them simply did not retain the same level of professionalism that Saguru preferred to have.

Kuroba’s door opened ten seconds before Saguru finished tying his shoes, and when he opened his own door, he was greeted by the sight of Kuroba herding Takumi out the door, his son’s arms full with a picnic basket and blanket. Kuroba grinned at Saguru.

“Hey, Hakuba.”

“One would think going on a picnic would be the last thing to do during Golden Week,” Saguru observed mildly. It was too late for cherry blossom viewing, but parks would likely be as crowded as any public space.

“Kaa-san wants to have a picnic on the roof,” Kuroba said, rolling his eyes.

“You have a sloped roof, if I remember correctly.”

“There’s a flat section for the dovecote, but it isn’t really a great spot for rooftop picnics.”

“Tou-san!” Takumi grunted, looking a strange mixture of defensive and irritated at Kuroba’s relaxed interaction with the English teacher he barely tolerated.

Kuroba ruffled his hair, making Takumi jerk backward like a scalded cat. “I think he actually forgot you were my neighbor,” Kuroba said in a stage whisper. Takumi turned pink and he thrust the picnic items at Kuroba before stomping back in the apartment and shutting the door behind them.

“Are you getting back at him for something?” Saguru asked. That had been more than obligatory parental embarrassment.

“He swapped the beckoning cat with a f-fish. I dropped a pile of reference books I was moving from the bookshelf in my room.” Kuroba grinned unpleasantly. “I’m not above starting a prank war with my son.”

“There’s something in the picnic dinner, isn’t there.”

“Now that would be telling,” Kuroba said lightly. “But no, Kaa-san would be disappointed in me if I was that obvious.”

“Don’t damage anything permanently,” Saguru said, feeling amused. It was nice to not be the target of either Kuroba’s capriciousness.

Kuroba nodded, setting the picnic basket aside. “You’re headed out?”

“My ride is waiting,” Saguru said. It came out apologetic rather than factual; he did enjoy talking to Kuroba these days.

“Have a good Golden Week, Hakuba,” Kuroba said.

“You as well.” Saguru headed for the stairs. He added over his shoulder, “Good luck with the prank war. You are aware that you left him unobserved in your apartment after embarrassing him, correct?”

Kuroba turned hastily to his apartment and Saguru smiled all the way down the stairs.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we finally see Mum

Mum hugged him two steps in the doorway and Saguru grabbed on to the coatrack as she almost overbalanced him.

“Saguru! You barely call, and you haven’t visited since you moved into your flat! You’re going to turn my hair white!”

“Hello, Mum,” Saguru sighed, patting her on the back. Her hair had new highlights in it covering up the gray. Whatever new shampoo she was trying tickled his nose with some floral scent or another. His father was behind her, off to the side, still in the main part of the hallway. Saguru nodded at him and got a nod in return.

Mum pulled back from the hug to look him over, frowning. “Your shirt’s not pressed. And you’re too thin, are you eating enough?”

“I am eating three meals a day,” Saguru said patiently. It wasn’t a lie. Just…sometimes his meal consisted of half an egg sandwich because he was too tired to bother with something more substantial. “And I don’t have an iron. I keep meaning to get one…”

“You should have said something!” Mom said. “You always preferred to be so exact.”

Her frown said she was wondering if he was backsliding into the lowest pits of his depression. Saguru dredged up a smile to dispel it. “I’ll add it to the list.”

“Better yet, I can send you back with one.” Mum smiled. “I’m sure we have more than one to spare.”

He could protest, but it wouldn’t matter if he did. If Mum decided, that was what would happen. Saguru took off his shoes and hesitated a half moment over guest slippers—it was no longer his home but…

Mum didn’t seem to notice the hesitation because she pulled him toward his father. “You’re just in time for supper,” she said, like it was a coincidence instead of planned that way. But that was Mum. Pulling strings, then acting like she hadn’t. It made Saguru smile a bit anyway. He had missed her.

Saguru nodded to his father again as he fell into step alongside Mum.

“How has work been?” Otou-san asked. Only natural that he asked first, career talk was less likely to verge into deep emotional waters.

“I had my home visits and somehow managed to survive them,” Saguru joked.

Mum rolled her eyes. “Children aren’t wild animals.”

“No, not ordinarily. Their parents on the other hand…”

Mum smacked his shoulder lightly, smiling. Even her eyes were smiling, making the fine wrinkles around them deeper. “I’m sure they were perfectly polite.”

“Oh, they were. They were even more polite showing me the door after I pointed out things that their children needed to improve on.”

Mum laughed and Saguru felt warm. This back and forth was familiar, him and Mum’s, what he spent most of his life with. He glanced at his father and found him smiling a little too. Something in him relaxed. Even as an adult, Saguru sometimes had trouble determining how his father felt toward him at any given moment.

“The home visits went fine,” Saguru continued more seriously. “It was all the transportation they required that was tiring.”

“We could have lent you the car,” Mum admonished.

“I no longer have an international driver’s license,” Saguru pointed out. “It’s over and done with anyway.”

Mum gave him the Look that said she’d remember his stupidity and use it against him later. Saguru could live with that.

There were new paintings on the walls, floral ones from artists he didn’t recognize. A lot had changed since Mum moved in a few years back. There were plants now, ferns and potted trees, and temperamental flowers tucked away in alcoves and on shelves. Every now and again was a photograph, some of Saguru when he was younger, some of Mum and her friends. There was a new one of her and Otou-san above a decorative vase outside the library, taken at a forest. They looked happy. They’d _been_ happier without a globe separating them even though they had been content enough almost two decades apart. It was good to see them happy.

Saguru wondered how Otou-san had handled all the change though. He’d never redecorated in all the years Saguru had lived in Japan or any of the times he visited. The changes hadn’t been brought up in the week Saguru was there before he moved into his new apartment. It was a bit sad that the home he had lived in with Mum had been sold off. It left him with even less incentive to ever return to England.

Mum led him to the family dining room off the kitchen instead of the more formal one. He had been wondering. She’d had supper in the formal room when he flew into Japan to, ‘celebrate being home.’ She could get carried away when she was caught up with enthusiasm.

“I took the time to make a proper supper,” Mum said. “A roast and mash. Some veg on the side and parkin for dessert.”

“I imagine some of the ingredients had to be difficult to find.” Last Saguru knew, they didn’t sell golden syrup or treacle in Japan, even in specialty stores.

“It was no trouble,” Mum said with a wave of her hand. “It’s worth it to have something I grew up on every once in a while.”

Otou-san suppressed something that sounded a lot like a laugh, but when Saguru looked he was straight faced. Of course.

“You cook at least half the meals on days that you don’t have the housekeeper here,” Saguru pointed out. “I imagine you indulge in familiar foods frequently.”

“Yes, but _you_ don’t,” Mum said. “And after I went to the trouble to make your favorite dessert.”

“I appreciate your effort, Mum,” Saguru said sincerely. The parkin would be Grandmum’s recipe—heavy on the treacle and ginger for a sticky, spicy, mildly sweet cake.

“You’d better,” she laughed.

The table was already set, with hotplates set down for the main dishes. Saguru felt a wave of nostalgia for when he was younger, coming home on one of Mum’s days off when she’d take time to have a sit down supper for the two of them.

“Sit,” Mum said to Saguru and his father. “What would you like to drink?” she asked heading toward the kitchen.

“Water is fine,” Saguru said firmly. She would be bringing out red wine to go with the meat for her and his father from the looks of the glasses. Saguru was still staying away from alcohol. He eased himself into one of the chairs, feeling how Otou-san’s gaze sharpened on him. He wasn’t doing any worse than when he had arrived in Japan. In fact, on a daily basis his mental state tended to be better to the point where his knee bothered him less.

“You have been using that leg too much.” Otou-san said.

“Home visits are over for the year, so I shouldn’t have to do quite that amount of walking in the near future.”

“It is only going to get worse with age. You should look into your options.”

An old argument. One that was brought up at least every other visit. Saguru shook his head. “I am well aware of my options and how it is likely to continue deteriorating. If it ever comes to the point where walking is no longer an option, I’ll take one of them.”

“Sometimes you’re stubborn about all the wrong things,” Otou-san commented mildly, but he dropped the topic when Mum returned with a pitcher of water and a bottle of wine.

“It’s a Bordeaux,” Mum said when Otou-san took the bottle. “Médoc.”

He poured her and himself a glass with a small smile while Mum returned to the kitchen for the food. Saguru poured himself water and passed the pitcher to his father to fill the water glasses alongside the wine glasses.

“She has been planning this dinner all week,” Otou-san confided. “You have been missed.”

Saguru smoothed a hand over the cloth napkin next to his plate. “I called,” he said softly.

Otou-san sighed. “And that is appreciated. She worries. We both do,” he added bluntly, and then the conversation was tucked away again as Mum returned with a heavy crock with a beef roast with carrots and cabbage in one hand and a bowl of thick mashed potatoes in the other. She had to have timed this to the minute because the potatoes were still steaming with a pat of butter melting rivulets of yellow into a pool at its center.

“Just the gravy yet,” Mum said, plopping the dishes onto their hotplates.

“You’re trying to fatten me up,” Saguru said.

Mum snorted. “You need to get some weight back on you. This will stick to your ribs.”

Saguru smiled as Otou-san started cutting thick slices into the roast. Mum brought back the pitcher of gravy and gave Saguru a look.

“Well?”

Saguru reached for the potatoes with a murmur of “Itadakimasu,” under his breath.

It tasted like Grandmum’s cooking, warm and hearty and simple that equated to Mum’s comfort food, and to an extent Saguru’s own comfort food. Meat and potatoes did stick in ways that cup noodles or rice didn’t. The meal passed cordially, exchanging updates on work and health—Saguru skimmed over the lack of sleep and the emotional outcomes of interacting with Aoko—and on to how acquaintances and extended family were doing.

All in all, Saguru was feeling quite peaceful when Mum suggested moving from the dining room to the living room for dessert. It was a false sense of security as, when they took dishes to the kitchen and Mum dug out the tin of cake, she had a firm set to her smile that meant business. Otou-san took one look and declared he was going to have to decline dessert and would be retiring to the study. Saguru wished he had a believable excuse.

“You take the tin,” Mum said, going for a kettle she’d left on low on the stove while they ate. “I’ll get the tea.”

Saguru set the last of the dirty dishes in the sink and took the tin. He knew when he was outmaneuvered.

Mum chose the cheery periwinkle-covered teapot Mel and Saguru had picked out for her fiftieth birthday to put the tea in. If that wasn’t an indication where she intended to take the conversation, Saguru wasn’t sure what was.

“Stop looking so grim,” Mum said, patting his shoulder as she put cups on a tray with the teapot. “Do you still take milk with your black tea?”

“Not lately.”

“Then we can do without.” She gathered the tray up and led the way.

The living room had more plants than any room so far. Areca palms toward the window framing a large ficus, with a peace lily set on a stand that used to hold a lamp. There was an ivy plant draping tendrils down from one of the wall shelves and a glass terrarium of moss on the bookshelf in place of a bookend. There were other points in the room that had been rearranged where Saguru could picture Mum putting vases of fresh flowers once they were in season.

“It’s much nicer this way, isn’t it?” Mum said, noticing him looking. “Leaving off those heavy curtains that were in here before and adding a few plants livens up the room. I really should send you back with a plant. I just repotted a few philodendron shoots that were crowding the pot. You can take one of them if you’d like.”

“I’ll think about it.” There was room on his desk for a plant when he wasn’t trying to eat and grade papers at it at the same time. A plant would be a nice addition and make the apartment feel a bit less Spartan.

“Good. I’ll show you some pots later and you can pick one you like.”

Of course she would consider that a yes. Saguru sighed. It basically was a yes. He set the tin on the coffee table and Mum poured them tea.

“We need to talk,” Mum said in English, opening up the tin and unwrapping the parkin. It was just the right amount of sticky, likely having been baked almost a week ago when he arranged this visit. 

“Must we?” Saguru sighed in the same language, sitting back on one of the couches with a piece of the cake in one hand and his teacup in the other. The cake was perfectly spiced. Ginger and dark molasses-like flavor spread across his tongue and he felt mild resentment that the enjoyment was spoiled by rising tension.

“Of course we do, love. We moved you in to your flat halfway through March, and here it is two days from May and you’ve called two times and answered your phone only another four times. You’re falling into avoidance patterns.”

“I’m still talking,” Saguru pointed out mulishly. “And I have called. That is an improvement.”

“Yes, compared to the complete lack of contact for more than a month after Meallán died.” Mum used Mel’s name without mercy, pinning him in his seat with the weight of her stare. “If I hadn’t flown out to check on you, I imagine we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Saguru’s shoulders lifted toward his ears. No one could make him feel quite as guilty as his mother. “I _am_ doing better, Mum.”

“Oh, I can tell you are. But if you’re not careful you’ll fall back into another rut and I don’t want to see you wallowing in depression.” Mum sipped at her tea, looking at the tin of parkin with a small frown. “When we speak to each other, you talk about your work and students, or chores. Do you even speak to anyone outside of work? I know it has been more than a decade since you were in Japan for any length of time, but you still have acquaintances here who ask after you. It wouldn’t be hard to rekindle old friendships.”

“I’ve never had many friends,” Saguru said. “As you have said, they are acquaintances at best.”

Mum made an impatient noise in the back of her throat. “You know full well what I mean. You need to interact. For God’s sake it took you a month to agree to visit me and I’m your mother. I’m worried.”

Saguru hid behind his tea and cake for a moment as Mum’s glower sharpened. “I do speak regularly to my neighbor,” Saguru allowed.

“How regularly is regular?”

“Usually once every other day, sometimes more,” Saguru said. “Although if our schedules don’t allow for it we may go a few days.” He didn’t mention that Kuroba had a tendency to leave a note if he couldn’t talk.

Mum raised an eyebrow. “Well, that is regular. What is this neighbor’s name?”

“Kuroba Kaito. He was a classmate during the year I spent in Japan.”

“Wasn’t he that boy you used to stalk?” Mum asked, sipping her tea.

Saguru sputtered, almost spilling tea down his front. “Mother!” He set his teacup down before he actually did splash himself and scowled. “I didn’t stalk him!”

“Saguru, love, you used police resources to find out the boy’s address and phone number.” Mum took a pointed sip of tea. “It was stalking.”

“He was my number one suspect for Kaitou Kid!”

“It was around then that I started cottoning on that you were going to be a ‘confirmed bachelor,’” Mum said.

Saguru rolled his eyes. “I was caught up in a case, not in Kuroba.”

“Of course. That’s why you mentioned him as often as you mentioned Kid in those months.”

“We are not arguing over whether or not I had an interest in Kuroba.”

“You even remove honorifics.”

“Because we _loathed_ each other, Mum.” Saguru grabbed another slice of cake. He needed more sugar for this.

“Well it’s not loathing anymore and you still call him that,” Mum reasoned.

“Out of habit. Please stop.”

“I’m being supportive.”

“Be supportive some other way.”

Mum laughed. Saguru almost smiled. Almost. He was a bit irritated with her though. “Well, I’m glad you’re making a friend at any rate. Although I had hoped you would be friendly with someone who would lure you out of that box of a flat.”

Saguru almost snorted. A decade and a half ago—no, maybe even a decade ago—he would have been lured anywhere by Kuroba’s mystery. He had just given up on trying to dig into Kuroba’s life in the interim. “I have only been in Japan a little more than a month, Mum. And work has come first in that time.”

“Well you should make time.” She bent forward to refresh their tea and took a slice of parkin for herself. “Go places. Make new friends. Meet people. Sitting staring at the same four walls isn’t going to help you move on.” She said it gentler than most of her words had been so far, but it still made him flinch a little.

Saguru had several replies flash through his head, “ _I’m not ready to move on_ ” and _“I don’t know if I can, I’ve just managed to run_ away _,”_ and, _“If it were simple, I would_ ,” but he didn’t say any of them. Some days he wished he could let go because it hurt too much sometimes, but then he’d feel horrified because it felt like forgetting and he didn’t want to forget. Saguru set down the remnants of his second slice of cake, no longer hungry, and picked up the tea for its warmth instead. “I know,” he said finally.

Mum looked at him a long moment and sighed. “I’m not asking you to date again. I would never ask that. I’m just worried you’ll be like you were in London, existing instead of living.”

“I _know._ ” Saguru inhaled the faint wisps of steam from his cup. “I don’t want to be there again either.”

Mum nodded. The coffee table between them felt like half a world between them for a moment, that gulf that had separated them when she moved to Japan. “Promise me something,” Mum said. “Promise me you’ll make the effort to go somewhere or do something not work related at least once a week. Grocery shopping doesn’t count.”

“I…”

“And getting takeaway doesn’t count either! It won’t hurt to sit in at a restaurant for once.” Mum sighed again. “I do remember your university years, love. You were too distracted to cook, but too lazy to go out and that has never much changed over the years.”

“I cook,” Saguru said in automatic defense.

“Of course,” Mum said, looking doubtful about what he might consider cooking. “Promise me, Saguru.”

“I promise,” Saguru said. He was promising to make an effort. To try. The past month had been so busy, but he knew he could have accepted the offer to go out with coworkers or have gone to a bookstore or somewhere that he enjoyed instead of heading straight for his apartment. He enjoyed speaking to Kuroba, but he could have asked if Kuroba was interested in getting dinner or have gotten in touch with someone from Grandfather’s labs who he used to keep correspondence with. It had been easier not to. To turn down offers and hide away, and to take what Kuroba gave without pursuing or giving more in return. Yes, he had made the effort in his work. But he knew that soon it would just be another excuse like Mum was pointing out.

Sometimes Mum knew him better than he knew himself.

“Thank you,” Mum said. “I know it’s hard for you, especially right now as it’s close to...” She trailed off as Saguru tensed up, looking sad. Sad for him and sad for what they’d lost over the last year. Mum sighed and dredged up a smile. “Now, I promise not to bother you about any of that the rest of your time here. Although, I think I’d like to meet this Kuroba Kaito. If he’s managed to catch your interest as a teen and get you to start opening up again now…”

“Mum.” Saguru frowned.

“I mean as a friend, Saguru, honestly.” She blinked at him, for all the world innocent.

Saguru didn’t buy it for a second. “If we’ve moved to actually calling each other friends in a month, I’ll let you know.”

“Deal,” Mum said with a smirk. “Now finish your dessert so we can go collect your father now that all the touchy feely interrogations are over.”

“It never ceases to amaze me that he is the one who went into law enforcement rather than you.”

“Yes, well, while he was picking criminal’s brains apart, I was putting people back together. Arguably, I’d say I had the harder job of it.”

Saguru didn’t disagree. He’d always found people baffling on some level and found solving crime preferable because evidence tended to add up in straightforward and logically achievable conclusions where the motives were a bit harder to comprehend. He had learned psychology from Mum and Otou-san both, but he’d always preferred Grandfather’s labs with their quantifiable results. That was why chemistry had been his focal subject in the end.

“I love you,” Mum said when they finished off the tea and packed the remaining squares of parkin away. “I don’t say it enough, but I’m proud that you’re getting better. I’m proud that you’re trying.”

Saguru shut the tin a little harder than was needed.

“Thank you,” he said since Mum was waiting for a response. “Shall we get Otou-san and let him have his share of dessert?”

Mum laughed. “Yes, he’s been eying that tin all week.”

“You kept him from sneaking any? I’m astonished.”

“He wouldn’t have dared.” Mum squeezed Saguru’s shoulder as she passed. “I’ll meet you in the study.” She smiled. “Tomorrow, would you be interested to see how your grandfather’s labs have changed? I know he isn’t in charge of them anymore, but I’m sure you’d still be welcome.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Mum said.

Saguru rolled his eyes but he was smiling again. It was enough.

***

Being home had been strange in a good way. Saguru didn’t fit into his parents’ life as he used to, nor did he have the same pastimes to distract himself as he had before. Then again, neither did Mum or Otou-san with both of them retired. They had gone to visit the lab as Mum suggested—run by a second cousin now, with equipment that made Saguru itch to fall back into the once familiar realm of chemistry and equations and bury himself in the new possibilities these technological advancements meant. There were methods that would have cut his old lab work time in half with almost twice the accuracy and a good deal less effort.

From there, they’d spent a quiet evening in, enjoying each other’s company while they read in the living room. Quiet companionship had been something he’d missed in recent months; just coexisting in a space with another person was something that felt right.

Contrary to what Mum had said, Mel had been brought up again, but Saguru hadn’t been left with a bitter feeling in his heart. The third evening there, Mum had cooked again, this time curry and rice, and she had stopped halfway through passing around the rice to stare at her plate.

“I made curry when you first introduced Mel as your boyfriend to your father,” she said.

It was the same curry sauce, bought in a jar whenever she could get it from England, and chicken, like she had made then. They’d decided on curry because it was something they could all agree on, and Saguru had been tense all day so that Mel had joked that Saguru was more nervous than he was. Mum had picked Otou-san up from the airport a little before lunch and given Saguru and Mel time to calm each other down.

Mum had been close to Mel. They had senses of humor that meshed well and would go to the theatre with or without Saguru tagging along.

Mum passed the rice to Saguru and took up her fork. “I miss him as well,” she had said then. “He was like another son.”

And Saguru realized he wasn’t the only one having trouble moving on. Mum had grieved with him when she found out. Otou-san had grieved in a less intimate way—he hadn’t known Mel near as well as Mum and it was due to Saguru not visiting him in Japan near enough as he got older—but they had all grieved. Saguru just hadn’t considered that it would still linger with Mum the way it was never too far from his mind.

Dinner had continued from there without any comment on her statement, but later Saguru had pulled out photos of him and Mel that they’d kept in a shoe box even though Mel always said he’d get an album to put them in. Saguru took the box to Mum and for a few hours they flipped through pictures and remembered Mel as he was and the smiles he’d brought them. It felt cathartic.

Saguru took the shoebox back with him when he returned to the apartment.

***

“How was your Golden Week?” Kuroba asked when Saguru returned on the last day of Golden Week, inviting Saguru into his home with the promise of _chimaki_ , _kashiwamochi,_ and a game of chess.

Saguru considered the chess board set on the kitchen table between them and made his move before answering. “It was nice. I visited Grandfather’s labs—er, I suppose they are my cousin Hirakichi-san’s labs now—and assisted Mum with her plants. Otou-san spent a good deal of time catching me up on the outcomes of old cases I noticed in the papers. I was impressed at how many Kudo Shinichi was involved in. I hadn’t been aware of how much of a big name he has become since high school. He already had a respectable record at the time.”

Kuroba snorted and moved a piece. “He’s a case magnet. Most detectives have to seek that sort of thing out or set up shop so cases come to them, but I swear he stumbles into every murder that happens in the Tokyo area sometimes.”

Saguru took in the fondness in Kuroba’s expression. “He regularly attends Kid heists does he not?”

“Sometimes.” Kuroba shrugged. “He is the eternal critic, I swear.”

“He’s also one of the few detectives on record for having shot at Kid.”

“Yeah, well, Nakamori did once too.” Kuroba winced. “He’s changed a lot since then though. Had a few near death experiences or twenty. You might remember that he was in the news after putting away a crime syndicate a little after we graduated.”

“Ah, yes.” Saguru frowned. “I’d forgotten about that.” He moved a knight forward.

“He’s lucky to be alive.”

“As are you,” Saguru said seriously, “since you seem to be attempting something similar.”

“I’d rather not talk about that.” Kuroba cut off Saguru’s approach with a bishop. “There’s so many better things to talk about. Like how it’s Kudo’s birthday and I left him a puzzle that should distract him long enough for him to realize it’s his birthday.”

“One would think he would remember details like that.”

“He’s terrible about remembering things in his own life. His wife is lucky he remembers their wedding anniversary.”

Saguru smiled. “And how was your Golden Week, Kuroba?”

“Great.” Kuroba snuck a piece of _chimaki,_ the sticky rice oozing red bean filling onto its bamboo leaf wrap. “Visiting Kaa-san went fine, and I had a good time with Takumi. He wanted to work on some of his sleight of hand, so we spent almost all of Saturday working on concealing things and misdirection. He picks it up fast considering he doesn’t practice near as often as he should be to keep his skills sharp.”

“Unlike you who practices constantly.”

“Exactly.” Kuroba popped one of the _mochi_ in his mouth—one that Saguru realized was from Saguru’s plate instead of Kuroba’s. And two of the chess pieces were swapped around.

“Must you?” Saguru sighed, returning the pieces to their proper positions.

“Why Hakuba, would I really do something so horrible as cheat at a game of logic?”

“Yes,” Saguru said. “Constantly. In fact, I think it could be argued that every time you don your alter ego you are doing just that.”

Kuroba grinned. “Your trust in me is so fragile. How sad.”

Saguru snorted. Oddly enough, he trusted Kuroba more than he would some of his friends in London. “I trust you to be as unpredictable as you can manage,” he said.

“Ah, but that would be predictable,” Kuroba said with a deep nod. “So I guess I have to be predictable sometimes to throw you off.”

“How likely is it that Takumi-kun is going to use those skills he worked at on me as soon as classes start up again?”

Kuroba wiggled a hand. “Fifty-fifty. He asked about you a couple of times, mostly what you were like for a neighbor. It wasn’t antagonistic though, so he might be warming up to you.”

“Lovely. I’ll just have to find out then.” If he’d worked on concealing things—and Takumi seemed to be decent at this already—then it was likely concealing and revealing larger or awkward things, so Saguru would have to be prepared for something unavoidable. Worse come to worst, Saguru would assign him extra homework again.

“If he gives you too much trouble…”

“I’ll tell you,” Saguru said calmly. He moved a chess piece. The board was becoming a tangle. There were several dozen moves he could see panning out along the board, but it was too soon to have a feel for who was winning. “Mum worries that I don’t socialize,” Saguru said conversationally.

“Oh?”

“I believe that she might want to meet you as you are the only person I seem to talk to regularly of late.”

Kuroba shifted a bishop, threatening one of Saguru’s knights. It was sacrifice the knight or potentially lose his queen next move. “Should I be afraid that your mother is interested in meeting me?”

Should he be? Considering her comments about stalking, Saguru thought it was probably him that should be afraid. “I suppose that depends on what you would consider alarming.”

“How much like you is she?”

“Focused, perceptive, and rather nosey.”

“So a lot like you.” Kuroba grinned as Saguru rolled his eyes.

“And I’m sure you don’t resemble your mother in the slightest.”

“Point.” They moved pieces around, taking bites of their dessert.

“I wouldn’t mind meeting your mom,” Kuroba said after a while. He ran his finger over a pawn contemplatively.

“In that case, I’ll inform her that you are amenable to the idea,” Saguru said. “I’ll be gracious enough not to mention your difficulty with caring for house plants. She’d likely want to rescue yours.”

“It’s doing better,” Kuroba said. “There’s no need to rescue it.”

A glance confirmed that the plant was in actuality doing better. There were glossy new leaves peeking from its top, and the dead ones had been discarded. Kuroba must have been reading up on proper plant care, or else experimenting on meeting its needs better. “It’s actually starting to look healthy.”

“I can learn how to take care of a plant,” Kuroba said drily.

“And yet it took me noticing it to save it from its plight.”

Kuroba snorted. Saguru smirked. This was nice. Comfortable. It felt like they had been friends for years instead of acquaintances and occasional not-quite-enemies. He supposed ‘rival’ could work, although it didn’t quite fit as they weren’t striving toward the same goal. Enemies felt too harsh a term for their relationship in the past though.

“Check,” Saguru said, moving his knight.

Kuroba smiled predatorily and moved his queen. “Check and Mate, Hakuba.”

Saguru looked back at the board, recalculating and winced. “Well, I feel foolish.”

“It wasn’t like we were giving it our whole attention,” Kuroba said, tidying up the pieces. He paused. “Another game or…?”

It was tempting to stay longer and enjoy more of Kuroba’s excellent tea and continually surprisingly welcome company, but it was getting late, and he had a few things to put in order before he had class in the morning. “I should probably be going,” Saguru said.

Kuroba summoned up a box from somewhere, fitting the chess pieces back into little foam slots. “That’s fine. It was a good game. We should play seriously some time.”

“Kuroba, if I played you seriously in any game, it would likely lead to animosity,” Saguru said with some humor. He knew that he would end up feeling too competitive for the sort of friendship they were developing. He was long past the point where he wanted to feel the mixture of adrenaline and aggression aimed at Kuroba. Aggression was something he didn’t have the energy to spare for much these days, but he knew that if Kuroba wanted, he could draw it out of him.

“Well then we’ll just have to find something else to do.” Kuroba smiled like this was not a difficult task to accomplish. Saguru wondered what on earth he would come up with. All things considered, their conversations and interactions had gone smoother than Saguru could have ever expected considering their shared history.

“Thank you for the tea and snacks,” Saguru said.

Kuroba grinned. “Eh, you’re not bad company. A lot better than when we were in high school.”

Saguru snorted. “Thank goodness for gaining maturity. You are also more tolerable.”

“Only tolerable?” Kuroba teased.

“Oh, just a bit.”

Kuroba laughed. “And to think I used to think you didn’t have a sense of humor.”

“To be fair, we both tended to take our sense of humor out at each other’s expense.”

“True.” The chess set disappeared, and Kuroba gathered up the tea and sweets. “Thanks for the company.”

“It’s enjoyable,” Saguru said. He wanted to say “Anytime,” but it still felt too soon. Talking to Mum had made him stop and realize just how quickly his life had rearranged itself with Kuroba in it as a friend. Saguru felt like he should be at least a bit more alarmed by this than he was. Instead it was a relief, and something he looked at with gratitude. Though he supposed it was the same for Kuroba since he didn’t seem to have anyone to socialize with much either. He wanted to ask if they were friends now in truth, but he didn’t. It would be acknowledging that loneliness that had allowed Kuroba to slip so seamlessly into his life.

Saguru stood, grabbing his cane where he had let it rest against the side table. “Have a good evening, Kuroba.”

“You too.”

It was a moment he could have reached out like Mum wanted, invite Kuroba to something instead of Kuroba being the one to reach out first, but Saguru hesitated and the moment passed. He left Kuroba’s apartment and returned to his own with its pile of graded papers on the desk and the new potted plant Mum had sent home with him, and the washed tea mug in the dish drainer. Next time, Saguru resolved. Next time he would extend an offer. Perhaps to eat out as that would satisfy both of Mum’s challenges; getting out of his apartment and to socialize.

Saguru touched the leaves of his new philodendron. It really did make the space feel more like a home than a place to exist in. Perhaps he would accept a few more plants from Mum in the future. The green brightened the drab space. That was another goal, he supposed. Make his living space more personal and welcoming. He added it to his mental list of goals, ones he didn’t have a set date to complete, but that he knew would help his mental state if he put the effort into them.

Saguru went through his evening routine with an absent smile on his face.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saguru makes progress with Takumi and thinks about maybe being more social
> 
> Also, guys, thanks for all the feedback. It makes writing it worth it <3

“Aaah!” Takata Kate stretched at her desk near Saguru’s, tilting back her chair to maximize her stretch. “Breaks are wonderful, but Golden Week is always so busy!” she said settling back into her chair. She swiveled to smile at Saguru. “So, how was your Golden Week?”

Of all his coworkers, Takata had been more persistent in her attempts at friendship. It was appreciated even if Saguru hadn’t shown the same interest in friendship in return. “It was pleasant,” Saguru said, straightening folders and notes. Completed reports from his home visits were to one side and graded papers were neatly stacked next to them, far more orderly than most of the desks in the room. “I visited my parents for part of it, and caught up on sleep for the rest.”

Takata laughed. “I feel that. Your parents live close?”

“Not far,” Saguru agreed. “Although it is simpler to take a car than to attempt to walk these days.”

He could see Takata’s eyes flick to his cane, but she was too polite to comment on it. Instead she draped an arm over the back of her chair and leaned comfortably against it. “I wish it was easier to visit my parents,” she said. “It’s a lot harder to go halfway around the world though.”

Saguru nodded, knowing that feeling well. “And jet lag is terrible. You visit them often?”

“I try to visit them once a year,” she said, “but that’s not always possible, and they can’t always visit me.”

“Thank goodness for technology to keep in touch.”

She laughed agreeably and glanced over her shoulder to where her husband was talking to a few other teachers. “That definitely helps. Thankfully Katsuya’s family is nearby. They’ve been wonderful in-laws.”

“That’s fortunate,” Saguru said, thinking of the challenges his parents had faced initially with their families, though both sets of grandparents had mellowed by the time Saguru was born. His own experience with in-laws had not been favorable either, he supposed.

“It is.” She smiled. “Well, back to work. Congratulations on living through your first year of home visits. You should come out sometime for drinks after midterms.”

“I don’t drink,” Saguru said, but he smiled all the same. “But perhaps I will join you after midterms all the same.”

Takata didn’t say anything about him not drinking, which considering how alcohol was used as a social bonding tool in Japan even more than it was in England, was a relief. Instead she grinned at the first concession Saguru had given to her friendly overtures. “Great! It’ll be good to have you along.”

Privately, Saguru thought that the experience would only reveal how his coworkers acted while drunk—and potentially give him far more intimate knowledge and hypothetical blackmail material than most of his coworkers would be comfortable with someone having, but he supposed there was nothing wrong with making efforts to become closer to them. He might not have decided if he would keep this job beyond the year, but there was nothing wrong with making connections while he was here.

Takata glanced over his shoulder out the window. “And there come the students,” she said. She swiveled back to her desk to grab one of her haphazard piles. “Back to work.” She paused as she started to stand up. “Are things going better with your students?”

Saguru reflected on how the three strike system had in fact reduced some of the issues he had been dealing with and how Takumi hadn’t pulled anything big or even mildly disruptive since home visits had started. “I suppose they have been,” he said. “Hopefully it continues.”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “Glad to hear it.” She stood up, walking to join her husband for a few minutes before they had to be at their assigned classrooms.

Saguru looked after her before turning back to his notes. He also hoped things with Takumi would go more smoothly. He wouldn’t bet on it of course—the practice Takumi had gotten over Golden Week and his interest in Saguru’s life certainly didn’t indicate a lack of pranks in his future. Still, Saguru would be prepared either way. His briefcase held a change of clothing, wipes, and a few other small things in case he was targeted specifically. If not, he could always have Takumi clean any mess he made. It was forever a relief that Takumi didn’t share Kuroba’s grand scale of dramatics.

***

As Saguru took role call at the start of the day, he felt Takumi’s eyes on him. Something had changed over Golden Week. Saguru wasn’t sure what, but there was something considering in Takumi’s eyes rather than challenging. He braced for a prank regardless as homeroom slid seamlessly into his first English class of the day.

None came, not when he returned tests, nor when he moved into his review lesson with sentence diagrams to cement the concepts that had proven to be poorly retained. It didn’t come when Saguru had various class members—Takumi included—come up with sentences using the proper subject and object placement. It didn’t come when he assigned that day’s homework, and Saguru wondered if he had guessed wrong, that Takumi hadn’t practiced over the break with the intention of using those skills in Saguru’s class at all.

Throughout the class, Takumi had never stopped watching Saguru, though, and as Saguru walked to his next class, he had to wonder what sort of change this meant, for better or worse. It didn’t seem to be hostile, though.

Saguru would have to hope it would work out.

***

Saguru was packing away his _bentou,_ idly planning out his weekend, when he felt eyes on him. He looked up to find Takumi at the edge of his desk, frown cemented on his face. Saguru wasn’t sure how long he had been standing there. 

Takumi hadn’t said anything in class that morning, or during the morning homeroom. In fact, it was the first day since Golden Week that Takumi hadn’t stared Saguru down, instead spending the time before homeroom talking to friends and surreptitiously passing a few notes once the school day had started. A glance showed the other teachers in the room either engaged in their own work, conversing, or talking to students who had sought them out. Saguru set aside his lunch and the half-graded pile of papers to give him his full attention.

“Kuroba-kun. How can I help you?”

Takumi’s frown smoothed into a blank mask that Saguru associated with Kuroba and avoidance. “You knew my parents,” Takumi said. It wasn’t a question. It was a blunt statement of fact that had some underlying tension Saguru was missing. Takumi’s body language gave nothing away. He’d learned an impressive poker face from Kuroba, but he hadn’t mastered the relaxed confidence Kuroba had had yet. He had mastered blank, but he hadn’t mastered nonchalant.

Saguru shifted into a better position for his bad leg, leaning forward. Takumi’s eyes flicked to it then back to Saguru’s face. Saguru met his eyes. In the West it would have been respectful. In Japan it was more of a challenge. Takumi didn’t look away, rudely staring right back. “We went to high school together for a few years,” Saguru said. “I would not have called us friends exactly, but we were close acquaintances, or perhaps rivals of a sort in your father’s case.” It hadn’t been a proper rivalry even.

“You hit on my mom.”

Saguru raised an eyebrow. Had Aoko told him about that or Kuroba? That was an accusatory tone slipping past the impassive mask. “To be fair, I was much younger and attempting to get a rise out of your father.”

Takumi’s face twitched. He opened his mouth and seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say, glancing around and taking note of the other teachers in the room. He squared his shoulders. “What were they like? In high school?”

Ah. The pieces clicked together. He probably only had memories of his parents fighting. He probably grew up wondering if his parents ever got along, a bit like how as a child Saguru wondered what his parents would have been like if they lived on the same side of the globe. How much would Kuroba or Aoko ever talk about their shared past if they were always avoiding or arguing with each other? “Lively,” Saguru said, his first impressions of the Ekoda High class coming to mind. “Loud. They were always bickering and chasing each other around like mop fighting and skirt flipping was a bizarre courtship ritual.”

Takumi’s eyebrows scrunched together. He looked more like Aoko than Kuroba then. It was an Aoko-expression on his face, the one she had had when she was confused about Kuroba’s actions or a particularly hard homework problem.

“If you would like to talk in the future about your parents, I am willing to share my memories,” Saguru said, holding out the promise as a peace offering. They had gotten off to a bad start. He had no desire to continue any tension between them. “However, now would not be the best time. The lunch period is almost over.” He could see on Takumi’s face the thought that he knew where Saguru lived. No, it wouldn’t be hard to track Saguru down.

“My mom said you were a world famous detective once,” Takumi said looking pensive, the same faraway, inward focused expression as earlier in the week. “That you challenged Kaitou Kid.”

“I was,” Saguru said, “but that isn’t really important anymore.” He didn’t want to go into it, especially not if it led to personal questions about why he wasn’t one now. If Takumi wanted to know about his life as a high school detective and how it fit in with his parents, Saguru could talk about it some other time. “Now,” he said changing the topic, “is this what all the pranking has been about?”

Takumi went pink with embarrassment. His fingers picked at the cuffs on his uniform as he suddenly was looking anywhere but at Saguru. “I... It’s not fair. That... They never talk about it. Before.” Saguru raised an eyebrow as Takumi stutteringly pieced words together. “Kaa-san and Tou-san.” He met Saguru’s eyes briefly. “They don’t talk about the past or what they were like or how they fell in love, none of that. They just argue and pretend they don’t care on the good days and fight on the bad ones, and I don’t even know what they ever saw in each other! You knew them though. You know what they were like and it’s...it’s not fair.”

Saguru was sympathetic, but that didn’t make Takumi’s lashing out at him any less a problem. He sighed. “You realize that it’s not my fault your parents don’t talk about it.” Takumi’s shoulders twitched up, chastised. Saguru took pity. “Look, I’m willing to share what I know about them if that helps. But in exchange I would appreciate keeping pranks to a minimum, and not having them targeting me.”

“I...can do that,” Takumi mumbled. “Um. You’re not asking me to stop completely?”

Saguru shrugged. “I can overlook some antics provided it doesn’t disrupt class or harm anything. Don’t make it a habit though.”

“Oh.” Takumi smiled, a little surprised like he couldn’t believe he wasn’t getting yelled at about it. “It’s actually been kind of...fun? Uh, don’t tell my parents that though.”

“Because your mother would be angry.”

“Er...”

“And Kuroba would encourage you.” Saguru shook his head. “If you disrupt anything, you’ll have a mark in the book.”

“Right, of course.” Takumi straightened up.

Saguru offered him a smile. “You know, you’re quite skilled at sleight of hand.”

“I’m not...I’m not that good. Compared to Tou-san...”

“Is on a different level than most people,” Saguru agreed.

“You’re not angry about the pranks?”

Saguru snorted. “Honestly, when I found out I had a Kuroba in my class, I was expecting a good deal worse than some glue, confetti, and removing a bit of makeup.”

“But...” He fidgeted as the first bell rang in the hall. “I humiliated you.”

Saguru snorted again. “If you think that is humiliating, you should try attending your average Kid heist. In the ones I attended, I ended up unconscious and stripped multiple times, tied up in compromising positions, and once, memorably, forced into a rather skimpy dress.” It was a hard task to keep a straight face with how Takumi’s eyes got larger and larger. “I imagine you’re sick of hearing about Kid from your mother though.” Saguru levered himself to his feet, snagging his cane from beside his desk. Saguru nodded toward the hall where teachers and students alike were hurrying back to their rooms for class. “Let’s not be late, yes?”

There was still a bit of wariness in Takumi, but Saguru thought they might have a chance of getting along now. And if his instincts were right... Saguru bumped Takumi as they turned to go separate ways, the perfect opportunity to slip a trick pen into Takumi’s pocket. (Let it be known that Saguru had learned some tricks over the years). He watched from the corner of his eye as Takumi found the pen a few steps later, pulling it free with a puzzled expression. He went to click it and jumped, the light shock no doubt surprising him.

“Sensei...?” he called after Saguru. Saguru glanced back and gave Takumi a smile and a slow, conspiratorial wink. Before continuing on. Behind him, he heard Takumi burst into surprised laughter.

Yes, they were probably going to get along fine.

He walked to his next class with a lighter step and the thought that Mel would have approved.

***

That weekend, a few dozen photos from the shoebox were placed in a cheap album. Not quite the album Mel and Saguru always planned to put together, but as a remembrance... It was a year since Mel died and it still hurt. But the photos Saguru chose were all ones with his happiest memories caught in them. They were what they’d had, and losing Mel didn’t mean those things hadn’t happened. There was a peace in accepting that. At the end of the album, Saguru wrote a letter of what he’d say if he had the chance to say all the things he’d felt in the last year. By the end of it, he thought he might just be okay.

**Omake**

In the two months that Saguru had been teaching, he still wasn’t sure what to make of the literature club. They met weekly, and as the club advisor, he found himself meeting with them although he had been told by Momoi that he needn’t bother to meet unless they were discussing an English novel that week. Call it curiosity or lingering remnants of his detective’s desire to understand what confused him, but whatever the cause, Saguru continued to attend the meetings after the first one, if in part only to see Momoi and Takumi interact. Whether or not he read all the books was a different matter, in part due to how much free time he had (which truly could only have been an excuse during the home visits) and his interest in whatever was being read (a much more accurate measure for why he did or did not read one of the chosen novels in its entirety).

Saguru tapped the spine of the Mishima Yukio novel that one of the members had insisted on at the last meeting. _Confessions of a Mask_ was one that he had not finished due to the themes leaving him unsettled. While Saguru had read some of Mishima’s short stories in high school, he hadn’t quite been prepared for the intermingling themes of double-lives, death, violence, and homosexuality.

The club members each had their own copy of the novel, though only Honda Jirou, who had requested the book, and one other member looked particularly enthusiastic to be discussing it. There was a conspicuous absence among the members as well.

“Takumi’s late,” Momoi grumbled. She glanced at Saguru as if he might know the reason, or perhaps wondering if he was the cause of it. Saguru kept his expression politely neutral.

“He had to talk to the lacrosse coach,” another member offered.

Momoi rolled her eyes. “The whole point of moving these meeting to Thursdays was so he could attend them,” she said. With another sigh, she waved her hand, calling the meeting to order more effectively than some police officers Saguru knew could do without a single word. “So. This week we have _Confessions of a Mask_ by Mishima Yukio. Opinions?”

“I thought that the conflict of internal desires in contrast to the outward actions in the book—”

“Anyone besides Jirou?” Momoi cut in, leaving Honda with his mouth open and a disgruntled expression. “Relax, Jirou, you can talk all you want about it in a minute.” She glanced around and no one seemed to want to go first. “Okay, so how many of you opened the book?” All but one hand went up, Saguru’s included. “And how many of you finished it?” Only four hands remained. Across the table, Jirou looked disappointed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. No offense Jirou, but I don’t think most of the club shares your enthusiasm for Mishima’s works.”

Jirou sighed. “I’ll convert one of you eventually.”

“Mm hmm.” Momoi rounded on Saguru. “Have to say I’m surprised you didn’t finish it. I half expected you to come in with an in depth analysis like you did with _The Picture of Dorian Gray._ ” She said it like a challenge and Saguru was still trying to figure out if she genuinely disliked him or if it was some sort of test of boundaries. Granted it could just be her personality to meet everyone and anyone head on directly regardless of their position of authority. _Dorian Gray_ had been her idea for the last English novel, not Saguru’s regardless. “There’s some thematic overlaps.”

Beyond the shared theme of duplicity and the homosexual undertones in _Dorian Gray_ set alongside the much more overt themes in _Confessions_ , Saguru didn’t really see it. Unless she was trying to imply something by specifically connecting him to both books. He narrowed his eyes, but Momoi didn’t look like she was going for an accusation. “I suppose there are some similarities,” Saguru allowed, “but there is a very big gap between Dorian’s embracing hedonism and Kochan’s continual self-deception and rejection of his preferences. To be honest, I preferred the tone of _Dorian Gray_ despite his unapologetic darkness.”

“Hmm,” Momoi hummed. “Well, your pick is next, and we all know you’re going with _Hound of the Baskervilles_.”

The game of poker the first club meeting had been to decide who got to choose what first based around winning hands. Every losing hand had required one of the books on their list crossed off. It had taken quite a few turns for Saguru to win a hand. Momoi had won the majority of them, though eventually every member had one at least one hand. It had worked out a bit too well and the only conclusion Saguru could draw was that Momoi was one hell of a card sharp.

“Oh, right, Sensei is a Holmes fan,” Watanabe Emi chirped. “Ne, Sensei, what’s your opinion on the recent films and TV programs?”

“A lot of them fail to capture Holmes’ character, and do even worse for Watson,” Saguru said drily. “Although I believe Irene Adler has gotten the brunt of misinterpretations, chiefly in how she interacts with Holmes.”

“So you’re not for a dominatrix Irene Adler?” Momoi asked, derailed from the meeting’s point with curiosity.

“That isn’t my direct issue with her character interpretation. The issue is that Irene is not and never was interested in Holmes, nor he interested in her. Adler’s actions were motivated by a desire to be with her fiancé and to keep her past lover from ruining her life.”

“We’re not here to talk about whether Irene Adler should be a dominatrix,” Honda cut in, “we’re here to talk about how Kochan’s repressed homosexual desire drives the conflict in _Confessions!_ ”

The door to the classroom they used for club meetings slid open. Takumi observed them with a pinched expression. “Do I want to know?” he asked, glancing at Momoi.

Momoi grinned. “Just in time to listen to Jirou deconstruct Mishima’s _Confessions of a Mask_. Take a seat.”

Takumi glanced at the rest of the club members, some of whom were laughing quietly, Honda Jirou, who looked irritated, and lastly at Saguru. Saguru lifted an eyebrow. Takumi raised one back. “Okay. Sorry for being late. Book on double lives and a guy trying to feel something he can’t?”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Honda muttered. “As I was _saying_ …”

Saguru found himself tuning out Honda’s impassioned analysis of his favorite author’s debut novel. It wasn’t that he was uninterested in what Honda had drawn from it, or what logic he’d used in making his connections; Saguru would have liked to have seen the essay Honda could no doubt write on the subject. The issue was, at one point he had been someone who felt out of place and had tried to be someone he wasn’t to fit in, and while that had been a very brief period of his life and nothing like the main character’s emotional reactions to these problems, the topic still struck a bit too closely for Saguru’s comfort.

The literature club was an interesting mix of people though, Saguru thought as bit by bit, other members started to add opinions and thoughts to build off Honda’s words. They had a range of interests and motivations for joining the club. Takumi was the only one in another after school activity as well, though he seemed to have joined the literature club for Momoi than anything else.

And Momoi… She kept glancing at Saguru and he wasn’t sure what was on her mind. She was in the club because she truly enjoyed a range of literature from what he could tell. Perhaps also because it gave her a space she could control as its de facto leader.

They were an interesting bunch and it was a way to pass one afternoon a week in some sort of human interaction, so Saguru couldn’t complain.

And next week he could discuss his favorite novel after introducing it to another generation of readers. What was there to dislike about that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lit club bit t the end was kind of inspired by the Sherlock Holmes senior seminar I had in college. It involved a lot of dissecting BBC Sherlock's Adler at one point and comparing Holmes across media/interpretations and it would totally be Saguru's thing. (Also, Momoi knows. Well, suspects. And also has warmed up to Saguru a bit by this point.)


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Kuroba Takumi had very set weekly schedules as for when he visited Kuroba. Wednesdays were Kuroba’s late days, so he never visited then. Saguru wasn’t expecting anything more from the evening than grading papers over takeaway and a pot of herbal tea. The knock on his door, therefor, was surprise enough that he left a streak of ink across the test he was grading. Saguru stared at the thick black line marring the page and supposed it was good that he hadn’t been using red ink at that moment or it would look like he’d tried to cross out half the page. The knock sounded again, this time softer, like the knocker was having second thoughts. Saguru set down his pen and made his way to the door.

On the other side was Takumi, hand half raised to try knocking a third time. His lips were pressed tight together, failing to keep a neutral face with his obvious nerves.

“Hakuba-sensei,” he said, lowering his hand. His eyes fixed somewhere to the side of Saguru’s left shoulder. “You said I could…” He trailed off.

Saguru opened the door wide enough for him to enter. “Please, come in.”

“Ah, ex-excuse the intrusion,” Takumi said. He slid into the room with Kuroba’s easy grace, sliding his shoes off. Saguru didn’t have guest slippers, which seemed to throw Takumi for a moment.

“Sock feet are fine,” Saguru said. He had half expected to feel uneasy at this conversation finally occurring. If anything he was almost amused. It felt strange for a Kuroba to be so openly nervous to talk to him.  “The apartment isn’t much.” He led Takumi to the main room, waving a hand at the two chairs clustered around his desk and the mess of papers on it, competing for space with his new plant and a pot of tea. “Would you care for a cup of tea?”

Takumi twitched, tearing his eyes away from examining the apartment to nod. “Yes, please.”

Saguru smiled and went to get his other mug from the cupboard. He wondered what Takumi saw in the room, what it revealed about him. It was still bare for the most part; just the necessities and things from work and a plant the only personality to it. Did that read as someone of simple tastes to him? Someone who didn’t plan permanence? Or would it be some other trail his mind would wander down? Saguru didn’t know Takumi enough to guess where his mind would go, but if he was anything like Kuroba in how he thought, it would be somewhere that Saguru didn’t immediately think of.

He headed back to his teapot. As he poured the fresh cup of tea, he observed Takumi from the corner of his eye. Takumi hesitated with hands hovering over the chair, snatching glances at the papers on the desk like he knew he shouldn’t look at them as they were someone’s test scores, but not quite able to reign in the curiosity. Saguru held back a snort of amusement. Yes, there was plenty of Kuroba in him even if Aoko seemed to have taught him to have stricter morals.

“Sit,” Saguru said. He handed over the teacup. The papers were swept to one side to finish grading later. His dinner remains were stacked on top after a cursory glance that there weren’t any spills that would stain the pages. He settled heavily into his seat, absently massaging his knee. He didn’t use the cane around his tiny apartment room much.

Takumi sat in the second chair like he was going to flee at any moment, both hands curled around the porcelain mug and his body perched on the very edge of the seat. The silence stretched as Takumi stared at his tea without drinking.

Saguru took pity on him. “You know, I don’t bite. I did say you could come to talk whenever you wanted.”

“I know.” Takumi took a breath and let it out slowly. “I’m trying to figure out where to start.”

“If it helps, I didn’t meet your parents until halfway through their second year of high school. I am unaware when or how they met, but they had clearly been close for a long time at that point.”

Takumi waved a hand. “I do know how they met. Baa-chan told me. Tou-san gave Kaa-san a flower near the clock tower when they were kids.” Saguru had a moment’s epiphany for why Kid had held a heist at that clock tower. It hadn’t made much sense at the time, but a heist for sentimental reasons, well, Kuroba had always been soft on Aoko even when he wasn’t inclined to openly show it. Takumi frowned. “You said you were rivals with Tou-san.”

Saguru leaned back in his chair, taking along sip of his tea. How much could he talk about? He’d have to be careful hoe he worded things. He’d promised Kuroba and Aoko that he wouldn’t reveal Kid to the world, and he certainly had no intention of making their home lives more complicated by leading Takumi to the inevitable conclusion if neither of his parents wanted him near that truth. They had good reason not to considering the amount of danger in both their lives. “I did use the word rivals,” Saguru said, hand warm on his cup. “I am not sure it is entirely accurate. We were not truly competing toward a shared goal, merely we disagreed on certain topics and were forever prodding each other to get a reaction.”

“Like when you hit on my mom.”

Saguru raised an eyebrow, taking in the slight hunch to Takumi’s shoulders and the pouting jut of his lower lip. He did seem hung up over that detail. “Yes.” He tapped his index fingers against warm porcelain as he thought. “Your mother is—” was? He didn’t truly know her now, but he couldn’t imagine her changing too much since then even if mop battles had ended. “—a spirited woman. Bright. I couldn’t help but notice her or Kuroba when I transferred to their class.” It was hard to miss duels and angry rants and teasing pranks. And Aoko had shined brightest with her eyes sparking with righteous anger against one of Kuroba’s tricks or some injustice Kid had pulled. Saguru could still clearly picture the way her blue eyes got sharp and her knuckles went white on the handle of her mop. “She was one of the only people in the classroom speaking out against Kaitou Kid, and that is what truly caught my attention. You see, I had transferred hoping to catch Kid and discover his motivation.”

“Seems like a lot of effort to go halfway around the world for Kid,” Takumi muttered into his tea, “even if he is one of the best thieves out there.”

Saguru had a weird and unsettling desire to take offense at Kid being called merely ‘one of the best.’ Perhaps it was lingering pride of his time chasing Kid, or perhaps—more likely—he’d been spending too much time with Kuroba. He pulled his face back to neutral from…whatever expression he had been making. He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, my father was police commissioner at the time, and as a minor with a citizen parent, it wasn’t difficult to arrange. I was interested in the challenge and overly confident that I could catch him where others had failed.” He turned the topic away from himself. “At any rate, I transferred into your parents’ class. Your father and I took a quick disliking to each other. You see, he was Kid’s biggest fan.”

Takumi snorted. “He’s still Kid’s fan, but he doesn’t talk about it much because Kaa-san freaked out about it. I swear, she’d talk about how Kid was frustrating and an insult to the police while Tou-san would want to talk about how Kid could have pulled off his heists like it was one big magic show. I point out that Kid really is a good showman once, and Kaa-san just about bit my head off on her way to scream at Tou-san.”

“Not much about that has changed then,” Saguru said, though he thought it had changed quite a bit. Back in high school, Aoko’s rages hadn’t been personal, and Kuroba’s fan tendencies had been a game. Now Aoko _was_ the police inspector responsible for catching Kid and knew who was behind the mask, but wouldn’t unmask Kid unless she caught him fair and square. It was very personal, and the emotions behind her anger had to run deep to the root of what she would perceive as Kuroba’s betrayal. And Kuroba… Kuroba likely had only wanted more than anger from his son reflected on his alter ego. What parent wouldn’t want their child to respect their skill even if they wouldn’t agree with the motives? It was sad and Takumi was caught in the middle of it. Because he was curious, Saguru asked, “What do you think about Kid?”

Fingers tapped along porcelain harder as Takumi frowned. “He’s probably insane and is either an adrenaline junkie or has a death wish. Kaa-san doesn’t talk about it, but I’ve _read_ some of the police reports.” He looked momentarily guilty. “I know I shouldn’t’ve but there were guns. I’ve heard it from people, and sometimes the media covers it, but Kaa-san never talks about it. I wanted to know.”

“Curiosity does make temptation difficult.” Saguru gave him a smile. He should probably disapprove. Probably. But he’d been in the same shoes in the past and he remembered poking his nose into far too many things his eyes were not supposed to have read at a much younger age than Takumi currently was.

“Anyway.” Takumi took a sip of tea. “Kid’s frustrating on one hand because of Kaa-san, and kind of cool because he can do things that I have trouble wrapping my head around. I should hate him, but I don’t. I just don’t want Kaa-san caught in whatever Kid’s trying to do with all those gems he steals.”

“I see.” Kuroba would be relieved to know the answer to if Takumi hated Kid. “Getting back to Aoko,” and oh, was this going to be a circuitous conversation if Takumi hared off after any related topics, “I flirted with her largely to annoy your father, as I said. He was a fan of Kid and I was one of the people trying to catch him. We didn’t get along and used any opportunity to try and irritate each other in hopes that the other would slip up.” He hesitated. He wanted to be as honest as possible. “At one point I even theorized he could be Kid, and I thought if I made him angry enough he would get sloppy and I could catch him out. Flirting with Aoko-san did make him angry. But I never did prove that theory.”

“Do you still think that?” Takumi asked, honestly curious. Saguru would have expected denial or anger at such an accusation.

The lack of such a response was strange. Did he think that Kuroba would never do such a thing? Or that such a hypothesis was a natural progression of thoughts? Saguru sipped his tea. “I do not,” he said slowly, “accuse Kuroba of being Kid anymore.” Technically true. He could also truthfully say he didn’t think Kuroba was Kid because he _knew_ Kuroba was Kid, but worded as an accusation, it felt much less like a half-truth. “Who Kid actually is, is no longer any of my business.”

Takumi leaned forward. “Aren’t you curious?”

“Isn’t everyone?” Saguru countered.

Takumi wrinkled his nose. “Not everyone has chased Kid. I’d think that anyone who chased him would want to know. Ojii-chan doesn’t shut up about it. Kaa-san wants to catch him, identity aside. I can’t think of anyone on the task force I’ve met who isn’t curious. _I’m_ curious and I don’t even chase him. You’ve got to be curious.”

“I’m curious about his motives,” Saguru said, because even after all these years, he still hadn’t put it all together. Plenty of theories, but unless Kuroba told him, they would only ever be theories. “That, out of everything, was what interested me most as a detective. What motivates people to commit crimes, what pushes them to commit a murder or steal a valuable or hold someone for ransom? What logic did they follow, what made it worth the risk for them and was it still worth it now that they have been caught.” Old enthusiasm rose in Saguru, thick with nostalgia. He still was interested in it. If it weren’t for his leg… No, it wasn’t just his leg anymore, it was knowing that between it and how he had let his skills grow slack, it wasn’t safe for him or those around him for Saguru to be a detective anymore. He’d seen proof of that firsthand.

“Yeah, but what about who he is?” Takumi persisted.

“Unless his identity is part of what is motivating him, it doesn’t matter,” Saguru said. “Kid could be a mailman or a showman or a social recluse with delusions of grandeur. A name and face couldn’t mean less to me without the mind and soul behind it.”

Takumi flopped back in his chair, balancing it on two legs like Kuroba used to do with just as much easy balance. “Okay. Fine. Can’t say I get it, but okay. Kid’s interesting for his brain not the rest of him. You’d think you’d still be chasing him for that though.”

“There are other things in life these days.” The words felt hollow. “Anyway,” Saguru said, pushing away nostalgia and regret, “you came here to talk about your parents, not Kid.”

“Right!” Takumi grinned, arms crossing behind his head. He was tempting gravity with the angle of the chair, but it seemed practiced enough that Saguru let it slide. Besides, it was a relief to see him relaxing. “So, do you have any embarrassing stories or anything? Because Tou-san can talk around high school for hours and tell you nothing and Kaa-san only ever brings stuff up to get angry at.” His eyes glittered mischievously at the thought of possible parental blackmail material.

“I have plenty,” Saguru said as he fought an answering smile. Most of the stories would probably give Takumi ideas. Still… “How much have you heard about Koizumi Akako or the infamous Valentine’s Day debacles?”

“Nothing, tell me more.”

Saguru found himself grinning as he recounted the Valentine’s Day he had been there for and the chaos that had sprung from it. He couldn’t remember more women being irritated by Kuroba than that day, and Koizumi had always been at least as terrifying as Aoko when angry. The rest of the conversation passed quickly. By the time Saguru had recounted Valentine’s Day and a few more of Kuroba and Koizumi’s unfortunate interactions and how Aoko fit into them, he’d looked up and well over an hour had passed.

“Ah,” he said, rounding up the conversation, “it’s almost time for your curfew.”

“Really?” Takumi looked at the glowing LED display of Saguru’s desk clock. “Huh.” He straightened, stretched, and Saguru had yet another moment of remembering a much younger Kuroba right before he did something athletic. “Time went a lot faster than I was expecting. Hakuba-sensei, thank you.” He bowed politely and Saguru waved the gesture away.

“No, it was a pleasure. I hadn’t thought about back then to such an extent in a long time. It was nice.” Saguru smiled and walked Takumi to the door. “If you ever want to talk again, please do.”

***

Takumi came back the next week, and the week after that, hungry for stories. At first he was satisfied by the happy and humorous ones, but Saguru knew that it wouldn’t last, not when Takumi was trying to understand how things were now.

“Do you know why my parents divorced?” Takumi asked, the question not surprising at all. He was barely in through the door this time, agitated, pent-up energy in him like the question had been knocking around in him so long he’d bust if he didn’t ask it now.

“I think that is a question best left to your parents to answer.”

“They don’t talk about it. I don’t _understand_ ,” Takumi said, throwing himself into the free chair next to Saguru’s increasingly messy desk. “Kaa-san gets all serious and deflects or talks around the subject, which I get, she left Tou-san. But not even _Tou-san_ talks about it, and he usually gives some answer to my questions.” Takumi’s face scrunched, his upper lip almost touching the tip of his nose. “And that includes stuff most parents won’t talk with their kids about. I asked his about sex once when I was ten and he answered all the questions I had and even covered stuff I shouldn’t even have known to ask about like kinks and same-sex practices and how to stay safe no matter what I was doing. I blame Shiemi for that, she reads stuff she shouldn’t for any age.”

Saguru pushed the image of Kuroba discussing the safety of bondage—how could his mind _not_ go to bondage after years of handcuff quips thrown his direction—for another time. “Perhaps they don’t feel that you are ready to hear it.”

Takumi snorted. “Please. They’d have said it could wait until I was older. This is different. Not even Jii-san knows, and he wasn’t lying. He’s a terrible liar and he didn’t dodge the question either, so he really doesn’t know.”

How Aoko explained divorcing Kuroba to her father without mentioning the actual cause, Saguru couldn’t begin to guess. He felt a bit bad for Nakamori-keibu. He would have been pulled between loyalty to his daughter and fondness for him son-in-law without any indication of why he should be angry at Kuroba like Aoko so clearly was.

“Do you know?” Takumi prompted again, leaning on Saguru’s desk. “Don’t avoid it, just…do you know?”

Saguru felt guilty under the earnest weight of Takumi’s stare. He sighed. “Yes, I know why your parents divorced. And no I’m not going to tell you.”

“But why?” Takumi scowled, fiddling with the corner of one of Saguru’s folders.

“It would be undermining your parents’ authority, and I can’t do that. It’s not my story to tell.” Saguru pulled the folder away and added it to the stack of papers he needed to grade that night. Takumi picked at his nails instead, plucking at the ragged edges of cuticles like removing them would reveal something.

“But how can you know when even Jii-san doesn’t. Is it because you were a detective or just because you knew them in high school?”

“A bit of both.” Saguru sighed and resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t getting any work done so long as Takumi wanted answers. He closed the folder and gave his full attention. “Nakamori-keibu is a good detective, but he didn’t know your parents the way other students their age would.”

“But he’s Kaa-san’s dad,” Takumi said, picking at a bit of dirt stuck under one nail. “He should know her enough to figure it out.”

How to explain it? “Would you say your parents know you well?”

Takumi frowned. “Yes.” He looked up. “I can talk to them about pretty much anything between the two of them even if they don’t talk about themselves.”

“But would you say they knew everything about you?” Saguru prompted. “That you didn’t have a few secrets from them?”

“No…” Takumi rested his hands in his lap, no longer picking at them. “So you’re saying he didn’t know parts of them, important parts, because they kept them hidden?”

“Yes.” Close enough to what Saguru had been aiming for. “A parent isn’t going to know everything about their child, and often because they are so close they are more likely to be blind to things someone that did not know their child as well would notice.”

“Oh.” The frown was back. “But they still love each other. Sure Kaa-san is angry at Tou-san a lot, but if she didn’t still love him she wouldn’t storm in and make sure he’s eating right or check and see if he’s been having drinking binges—he doesn’t do any of that much anymore, but he did for a while and she would help get him back on track.” The frown was turning into a look up misery and Saguru wasn’t sure if he was capable of calming Takumi down if he started crying. He had never been good at handling tears. “And Tou-san keeps track of Kaa-san’s health and sneaks her favorite foods into the cupboards when she isn’t looking when she’s had a bad week, and he leaves a flower at the door on her birthday even. You can’t tell me that they’re not still attached, because they are.”

Saguru rubbed his forehead because yes, clearly they were. Of course they were. They couldn’t get away from each other enough to separate their lives but too much hurt kept them from ever getting back together.

Takumi sighed. “The only thing I can think of is that Tou-san did something bad, so bad Kaa-san can’t forgive it. And I think she could forgive an affair, but I don’t know if she could forgive him doing something illegal.” He sighed. “Maybe something small, but I don’t think she’d ever forgive him if he killed someone or something. But I don’t think Tou-san would ever do that…” Takumi trailed off, his voice getting quieter and quieter as he spoke.

Saguru cleared his throat. “Ah. I do not believe that your father would commit murder.”

“But what else would Kaa-san be unable to forgive?”

Takumi’s elbows were tucked up close to his sides and his arms crossed just enough to make it look like he was holding himself together with a weak grip of his arms. Saguru looked away. The sun was too bright for this dark of a conversation. It sent dappled shadows through green leaves of the tree right outside his window. Saguru looked back at Takumi. “I can’t tell you why your parents divorced, but if you would like, I can talk to them for you.”

“It won’t help,” Takumi said.

“I can make an attempt at the least.”

Takumi sighed. “Thanks.”

Saguru had the awkward urge to reach out and pat Takumi’s shoulder in some kind of comforting gesture, but it felt like it would be too familiar an action East or West in this sort of situation. Instead he let his hand rest on the corner of the desk close to Takumi and leaned forward. “Would you like to hear about their first date? Some of the account is secondhand, but I was there for the last bit where Aoko-san burst into the police station wielding a broom.”

Takumi smiled, barely there, but a real smile. “Thanks. I’d like that.”

It wasn’t much to offer when Takumi was asking for why everything had fallen apart. But it did show that from the start of their romantic relationship, Kid had been something that broke any moment they were having.

Later, when Takumi left and the door closed behind him, Saguru was left with the papers he was supposed to be grading. He frowned down at a sentence construction worksheet, barely seeing the shaky attempts at English written there. It might, he thought, be about time to have a talk with Kuroba about his meetings with Takumi.

***

It was Thursday, and on a normal Thursday, Kuroba got off work before Saguru got home and took time to do…whatever it was Kuroba did with his relaxation time. On weeks a heist was scheduled, Kuroba was gone long hours and might not show up until the middle of the night, waking Saguru from the light sleep he managed when his thoughts were preoccupied by his neighbor. But some Thursdays Kuroba checked in on Saguru—and he always did at least once a week—and caught up with each other’s week and life. This Thursday Kuroba knocked on Saguru’s door with a box of post-dinner doughnuts to go with Saguru’s habitual post-dinner tea. He looked so relaxed and cheerful for once—and honestly so, not pretending to be relaxed—that Saguru felt a bit guilty knowing he would be leading the conversation in directions Kuroba wouldn’t be happy discussing.

Saguru greeted him with a smile anyway, letting him choose which seat he wanted. Naturally, Kuroba chose the one closest to the window like always. It likely wasn’t even conscious anymore. Kuroba naturally went to the easiest exit. Which….was actually exploitable, but as Saguru wasn’t out to catch Kid anymore, it wasn’t his business.

Saguru passed Kuroba a teacup and dishes for the doughnuts. “The tea is a mint-green blend,” he said, taking his seat across from Kuroba. His knee twinged on the way down. It was probably because he was a bit nervous to broach the subject. “Is that okay?”

“It’s fine.” Kuroba leaned back, stretching like a cat, above his head and arcing his back. Part of Saguru appreciated the flex of muscles through Kuroba’s t-shirt. Kuroba plucked a custard filled, chocolate coated doughnut from the box. “Mint is good with sweets.”

A glance at the box confirmed Saguru’s favorite plain cake doughnuts with a light glaze. He had yet to figure out how Kuroba learned these things. Saguru hadn’t eaten a doughnut in years. “Your day went well?” he asked.

“Finished a project. An incredibly detailed replica of a Chinese vase that they needed about a week ago because it needs preservation work done on it. Whoever did it last must have done a shoddy job because it was deteriorating.” Custard oozed out the end of the doughnut as Kuroba bit into it. “I am incredibly proud of the replica. You could look it over and not spot a single difference down to the cracks in pattern, mistakes, and the weird bubble near the bottom from a mistake firing. Now I don’t think I could replicate something like the random pattern of natural glaze firing, but I can paint a perfect replica no problem, using the right pigment mixture and given enough time.”

Saguru nibbled at his doughnut. It was sweeter than he remembered them being. Perhaps his tastes had changed. He tried to think of a way to approach the topic that wasn’t blunt and wouldn’t come out as accusatory. “I had a conversation with Takumi-kun yesterday.”

“Oh?” Kuroba sat up, intent. “You two have been getting along recently.”

“Yes. I believe we have managed to work through much of our differences.” Much to Saguru’s relief because Takumi was much better when he had a reason to be friendly than antagonizing Saguru. “You were right about our shared pasts being the issue. He wants to know more about you and Aoko in high school.”

“A different perspective, huh?” Kuroba frowned. “I guess that’s better than him acting out.”

“It’s understandable why he’d be curious. I do have a unique perspective for an outsider.” Not the most time spent, but he’d kept track of both Aoko and Kuroba back then with all the attention to detail that was his deductive habit.

“You do,” Kuroba agreed.

Saguru took a sip of tea, peripherally aware of Kuroba’s relaxation and good mood starting to dissolve as he attempted to read where Saguru was going with this. “You have no reason to worry, I have no intention of revealing anything you would be uncomfortable sharing with him.”

“I’d hope you wouldn’t,” Kuroba said flatly.

“As I have said, I have no reason to interfere in anything related to Kid,” Saguru said, starting to feel a bit tense as well. He sighed. The mint tea was supposed to be relaxing, but tea wasn’t enough to smooth the way to unpleasant topics.

“Whatever you’re trying to work up to, say it,” Kuroba said.

Very well. Kuroba had asked. Saguru squared his shoulders and leaned forward. “You might want to talk to Takumi-kun a bit more about your separation from Aoko-san. He seems to be working with worst case scenarios for why Aoko-san left you. He actually speculated it could be because you murdered someone.”

Kuroba looked at him blankly over the doughnut box. “What? You can’t be serious.”

“He does not truly believe you killed someone,” Saguru said, a thread of impatience in his voice. “I don’t think you are capable of murder short of protecting Takumi-kun or Aoko-san. He is merely speculating as he lacks a satisfactory answer.”

“We gave him answers.”

“Apparently they were not good enough.”

Kuroba scowled and it smoothed into an impersonal mask. It hurt and Saguru was surprised at the emotion. Kuroba was retreating rather than discussing as an adult. “Well, at least you seem to think highly of me. Not capable of murder huh?”

Sarcasm. Lovely. Saguru rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Kuroba, I have always thought highly of you. Whether it was as an adversary to match wits with or for your skills, I have never thought you were beneath my respect.”

“Funny how you showed it back then by handcuffing yourself to me.”

“And you pulled off the heist all the same. I still don’t see how, but you earned my respect time and again even as you earned my irritation.” Kuroba’s cup of tea remained untouched. He held himself too still. Saguru searched the mask for answers, but beyond the fact that he knew he had hit a sore spot, Saguru couldn’t tell what Kuroba was thinking.

“Past is past,” Kuroba said as if he had not been the one to divert the conversation. “Why are you trying to tell me how to raise my own son?”

Why? Saguru thought about the desperation he’d glimpsed in Takumi’s eyes in the unguarded moment he’d shown. Takumi wasn’t the first child he’d seen torn between two parents, and he wouldn’t be the last, but Saguru knew that sort of emotion on an intimate level.

“Kuroba…I was born in Japan and moved to Britain when I was six years old.”

“And?”

“Despite being a Japanese citizen, I have never once been seen as Japanese.”

“Well you’re British…” Confusion showed in Kuroba’s eyes though the mask didn’t flicker. Saguru mustered his patience.

“Until I was six, I never questioned that I was Japanese.”

“Seriously, Hakuba, where are you going with this?”

“My point, Kuroba,” Saguru said in a clipped voice, “is that when I was eight, I wondered why my mother lived in London while my father lived in Japan. They claimed to still love each other, but the children in my first grade class called attention to how odd it was that they lived half a world apart. No one else in my class flew halfway around the world on holidays to visit another parent. No one else had moved halfway across the world in the middle of their first year of primary school.” He took a breath. “My point, Kuroba, is that I asked and asked and asked, but my parents never gave me a satisfactory answer. And do you know what I eventually figured out? My mother moved to England because I did not do well in school in Japan. Because when I started school in Japan, I was not Japanese, no matter what my birth certificate said or who my father was. My parents decided it was better for me to grow up in London and fly to Japan on holidays because I wouldn’t have a good childhood in Japan and Father couldn’t leave the job he spent half a lifetime working toward.”

Saguru leaned forward, staring Kuroba down as Kuroba remained impassive and tense. “It would have been nice to talk about this as a child. Because their effort to keep me from knowing why made me feel even worse when I found out it was for my sake. And Takumi-kun isn’t stupid, Kuroba. He’s going to keep digging. And digging. And he is going to find something out whether you want him to or not, and he will not be happy when he finally does learn the truth.” Saguru leaned even further until Kuroba leaned back and Saguru’s leg twinged from supporting him half-standing. “And you really do not want him blaming himself for the failure of his parents’ relationship.”

“Fuck off, Hakuba,” Kuroba said, anger finally leaking through the mask. “You have no place to judge how I raise my son.”

“I don’t,” Saguru agreed. “I am not Takumi-kun’s parent, I am only his English teacher. But I am your friend and as such I would like for your son to be safe and healthy, and we both know that if he digs—and he will because he is very much your and Aoko’s child—he could get himself and you into danger.” Saguru sat back down in his chair heavily as his knee chose that moment to give out. Kuroba eyed him, still scowling. Saguru let a breath hiss through his teeth and forcefully picked his teacup up. “Drink your damned tea, Kuroba.”

After a long pause, Kuroba picked up his teacup. Saguru let himself relax. Kuroba hadn’t run and he hadn’t shut Saguru down. He was angry, but he was listening. Thinking. Kuroba took a sip of his tea.

“Takumi asked if I was a murderer?” Kuroba asked, subdued.

“Not in so many words.” Saguru took a long swallow of tea and massaged at his knee as the pain went from stabbing to aching, jittery tingles. “It was more that he observed that Aoko would only have left if she deemed something unforgivable, and he was having trouble picturing any other option.”

“Unforgivable, huh?” Kuroba stared into his teacup. He snorted. “I suppose lying about being an internationally wanted thief counts.”

“To be fair, I believe it was the lying more so than the actual thievery that Aoko had a problem with.”

Kuroba rolled his eyes. “No. She only hated Kid the entirety of our high school years. However could that have been the issue?”

Saguru lifted an eyebrow.

Kuroba sighed. “No, it was a combination of the two. I don’t really blame her for not being able to trust me.”

“But you still care for each other.”

“Yeah.” He laughed hollowly. “I’ve never loved anyone else.”

“Mm.” The doughnuts lay abandoned between them. It felt like a metaphor. Something sweet ruined by bitter memories. “I meant it in that I am not trying to tell you how to raise your child, Kuroba. I merely feel that you need to be aware of what Takumi-kun is thinking on this matter. He is frustrated. He was willing to turn to me to learn more. I imagine that is the only reason he accepts me at all.”

“Don’t tell him why.”

“I won’t. How often must I say that I have no intention of telling the world that you are Kid for you to believe it?”

“Well,” Kuroba said with a bit of humor returning to his voice, “you did yell it to the world back in high school.”

“I would like to think we have both matured since then,” Saguru said primly.

Kuroba laughed under his breath. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.” He finished off his lukewarm tea and set the cup back in its saucer. “I keep feeling like I’m messing up as a parent and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“Apology accepted,” Saguru said, inwardly marveling that he had gotten one at all. “I don’t think anyone can be sure that they are doing their job as a parent well.”

“Maybe.” Kuroba stood up in a sudden burst of movement. “Thanks for the tea, but I should probably call Aoko.”

Saguru blinked at him. Normally they would sit and chat a while longer before either sharing a meal or parting ways for the evening before it reached that time. “Of course.”

Kuroba smiled, a there and gone flash of teeth. “No need to get up, I’ll let myself out.”

He at least took the door this time. More than once, Saguru knew he’d taken the window when he wasn’t paying close attention. Saguru set down his empty cup and looked at the box of abandoned doughnuts. He’d done the right thing to bring it up, but he couldn’t help wishing it could have been another day of talking about meaningless things and enjoying each other’s company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Takumi progress. And in a way, Kaito and Saguru disagreeing means they're secure enough in this friendship to disagree now >_> Don't worry, it's not a serious argument.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Warning for possibly upsetting off-scene argument between Kaito and Aoko. And their unhealthy relationship dynamics I suppose. If domestic arguments upset you, see end notes.

 

 

Saguru was startled from a post-dinner daze by pounding on a door. Not, he realized after a moment of alarm, his door, but Kuroba’s. It was a Tuesday, meaning a weekday, meaning that if Takumi was visiting Kuroba, he would have had a curfew and it was…currently eight o’clock. Saguru squinted at the LED numbers. Surely he hadn’t been sitting for that long…?

The pounding stopped as there was a clatter from Kuroba’s apartment. “Hold on!” Saguru heard Kuroba yell.

“It’s too late in the evening for this, Kaito,” Aoko called back. “How many damn times do we have to go through this?”

Saguru carried his dishes (now sadly congealed from leaving them sit too long) to the sink and tried to drown out their voices with running water. It didn’t do much good, and not for the first time he was resigned to how thin the walls were. He hoped that whatever was going on wasn’t because of his conversation the other day...

“Kuroba Takumi, for the last time, check your phone!” Aoko said, quieter than her yelling before, but still loud enough to be heard clearly.

Saguru scrubbed his dishes clean as locks clicked and Kuroba’s door opened. It shouldn’t have been surprising to hear Aoko yelling at Kuroba’s door considering that was how they’d met up again, yet this was the first time it had happened since then. Both Aoko and Kuroba had made it sound like it was a common occurrence. Had they been paying closer attention because they’d been embarrassed that Saguru had overheard? Now that the door was open, the voices were quiet enough for the water to drown out. Good. Let them have a bit of privacy.

Dishes went into the strainer and he left the water on a good half a minute more before reluctance to waste water won over the desire to let Kuroba talk without an unwilling eavesdropper. He turned off the tap just in time to catch Aoko’s “—go wait outside, I need to talk to your father.”

Well then. There was a pause and then the door shut and Kuroba and Aoko must have moved further from the wall because their voices were a near-unnoticeable hum.

Saguru wiped his hands dry and turned back to his desk with the starts of a lesson plan that he’d gotten sidetracked from. He’d just picked up his pen when there was a soft knock on his door. And Saguru was quite sure that it was his door this time. He sighed.

It was not much of a surprise to find Takumi on the other side of the door, backpack in one hand and a scowl on his face. Saguru stepped back to let him in without a word.

“I didn’t feel like waiting outside while they argued,” Takumi muttered. His shoulders were hunched up a few centimeters though he was trying to look calm.

“You’re welcome here,” Saguru said. Ordinarily he’d offer some form of refreshment, but from the restless way Takumi fiddled with the straps on his backpack and the way his eyes were glued on the wall separating Saguru’s apartment from Kuroba’s, Saguru doubted refreshments would be welcomed. “Lost track of time?”

Takumi shrugged. “Not this time.” Saguru raised an eyebrow and walked back to his desk, sitting in the chair. He offered the other to Takumi, but Takumi shook his head. On the other side of the wall, something glass broke. It was all the more alarming because voices were not currently raised. Takumi winced and looked away from the wall. “I stayed out on purpose today,” he admitted. “Today was their wedding anniversary. They always fight.”

“Wouldn’t it be better for them to not see each other in that case?” Saguru asked. He strained his hearing for any more sounds of destruction, but there was only the occasional soft, sharp rhythm of conversation.

“Tried that. Doesn’t work.” Takumi sighed and rocked back on his feet. “They’ll just poke at each other. Better to give them a reason to fight about than have them pick and pick and pick. Those can get nasty.”

Saguru twisted the pen between his fingers, still straining his ears. He had to wonder what nasty entailed. If mildly angry in high school had involved mop chases on Aoko’s end and razor cards from Kaito, it was entirely possible that a true fight could be very bad indeed.

Takumi didn’t seem to notice Saguru’s worried glance at the wall. “They’ll probably fight for another few minutes or so, work themselves up to where they can’t decide if they want to hurt each other or make out, and then decide to stop before it reaches that tipping point. Give it a couple days and it’ll be back to passive aggressive passes at each other like usual,” Takumi muttered. He finally caught sight of Saguru’s expression and winced. “The only thing that ever gets hurt are dishes…and maybe the wall depending on what hit where. They’re not going to hurt each other. I mean the reason they fight so much is they still care too much even if Kaa-san kind of hates Tou-san too.”

“Please tell me you have no inclination to get them back together.” There was a second crash followed by Aoko shouting, “You will not—!” before she cut her words off. Or Kuroba stopped them. Either way, Saguru wondered if he should intervene.

“Hell no.” Takumi looked at Saguru like he had three heads. He’d stopped rocking on his heels. “Are you crazy? The last thing they need is to get back together. If anything, they should try seeing somebody else.”

“I am glad to hear you say that because their relationship is far from healthy.” Another crash, the sound of glass clinking off glass, and Kuroba’s voice just a bit louder and more insistent running alongside it.

Takumi snorted. “No, really?” He glanced at the wall and the chair Saguru had offered before finally choosing the chair. “They used to try not to fight around me, but I’m way past thinking they could ever make it work.”

There were a hundred different things Saguru wanted to say, how it wasn’t fair for anyone of them involved to keep going through this or how he was sorry to see how bad it could be—and this was the worst Saguru had witnessed between Kuroba and Aoko, though he also had witnessed or heard several amicable interactions between them. Any words he could have offered only sounded trivializing or condescending in his head, so he said nothing. It was quiet next door, quiet enough that Kuroba and Aoko were either whispering or not talking at for the moment. And Takumi kept sitting on Saguru’s chair, looking uncomfortable and tired. Saguru was surprised Takumi had chosen to reach out to Saguru in this moment at all.

“What’s your family like?” Takumi asked suddenly.  “I don’t really remember them being anything but like that,” he waved a hand at the wall, “and Shiemi only has her mom and Yuuto has three younger sisters but both his parents work so…”

He looked like he needed a distraction, Saguru thought as he absentmindedly tucked the information about Momoi and Himura Yuuto from class 1-C away. “If you’re hoping for a viewpoint on a more standard family unit, I’m sorry to disappoint. For the majority of my life, my parents lived half the world apart.”

“How would that even work?”

Takumi leaned forward, interested. That was fine. Better listening to Saguru talk about his family than listening to his parents argue. “Remarkably well,” Saguru said. He leaned back in his seat. There had been holidays and long phone conversations that had cost a small fortune in the years before skype and international cell phones. But his parents had been happy in their own way. Certainly happier than Kuroba and Aoko were at the moment. “They are both independent people, and in that sense they were content in pursuing their own lives. Mum had her career, Otou-san had his life here, and I spent a good deal of my childhood spending school breaks overseas.”

“Huh. But wouldn’t they miss each other?”

“Naturally. Although I suppose if anything, that it worked out meant they grew very good at communicating.” Actually, his parents were fairly good at communicating—with each other. Now anyone else could be a different matter. It took a lot of trust and compromise to do that as he had learned with his own relationship. “Each moment they had together meant more back then… Of course, they’ve lived together again since I moved out and Mum retired. It was probably very difficult to live together after so long apart.”

“I can’t even imagine how people could make that work,” Takumi muttered, likely trying to picture his parents under the same roof.

“A large home with personal space to retreat to likely helps,” Saguru said drily. 

“How big is a big house? Because after half a world apart, no house is going to be big enough.”

“Big enough,” Saguru said.

“Big enough that you could live with them?” Takumi challenged.

“Technically, yes, but as an adult who has lived on my own for several decades, the idea of living under parental authority again is rather unappealing.”

Takumi grinned. “Yeah, I can figure. Can’t really see myself going back after I can be on my own. It can’t happen soon enough.”

“There will be things you’ll miss, but there are other benefits.”

“Like getting away with not making your bed and not having a curfew?” Takumi asked with such a longing tone that Saguru had to stifle a laugh.

Saguru had never had much of a problem with either of those things, but the thought of them would have been awful at Takumi’s age. “Among other things,” Saguru said. Kuroba’s apartment had been quiet for several minutes now and he tilted his head as he heard the door opening. “I believe your mother is ready to leave.”

“Ah…” Takumi’s smile dropped as he was reminded of the time and place. “Yeah. Well, thanks for the story and letting me sit in your apartment, Hakuba-sensei.”

“Any time,” Saguru said, meaning it. He walked Takumi to the door, finding a stressed looking Aoko pacing with her phone to her ear just outside the door.

She looked relieved when she saw Takumi with Saguru and tucked her phone away. In retrospect, she probably though he had run off. “Let’s head home,” she said to Takumi, only giving Saguru a small nod of acknowledgement.

Takumi shrugged and let her tug him toward the stairs and away from Kuroba’s apartment.

*

Saguru waited until they were out of sight down the street before approaching Kuroba’s door. To knock or not to knock? Was it better to pretend that nothing had happened or offer support that Kuroba would likely not want or appreciate? He knocked. It was a long pause before Kuroba answered.

“Yeah?” Kuroba asked. He had a broom in one hand. His eyes were tight at the corners with tension.

“Would you like any help cleaning up?” Saguru offered.

Kuroba gave him a flat look. “I’ve got most of the glass cleaned up already, and I’ll just vacuum up the rest. Don’t talk around things, it doesn’t suit you.”

Saguru sighed. “Fine. Would you like emotional support and company or should I bugger off?”

There were small details, Kuroba’s hair more mussed than normal, the way his lip looked just a bit red like he’d bit it. A nick on one hand, the blood already dried where maybe a bit of glass had ricocheted or been bumped during cleanup. This was a Kuroba wearing very little of his usual masks and Saguru wasn’t sure how welcome his presence would be with those vulnerabilities, the situation aside.

Kuroba shrugged. “I’m not really going to be up for conversation, but if you want to watch me clean glass slivers off my floor and sit in silence, hell, why not.” He left the door open for Saguru to decide and went to fetch the vacuum.

Saguru stepped into the apartment and shut the door behind him. A glance told him plenty. The broken things had been a plate and two glasses. It looked like the entire contents of the kitchen table had been swept off it at one point, papers, a bent-open paperback novel, and a napkin holder—contents included—laid strewn on the ground. Clean dishes in the dish holder by the sink showed where the glassware had come from. It would have impacted off the wall for the glasses, and perhaps thrown straight toward the ground for the plate. In his mind’s eye, he saw the staging, Kuroba at the sink first while Aoko was near the table, her following him around it as the argument grew and putting her in range of the dishware.

Kuroba returned from Takumi’s bedroom with the vacuum, a small handheld one for contained messes.

“Watch out for glass,” Kuroba said, not looking at Saguru as he plugged the vacuum in. “I think I got the large pieces, but some flew pretty far.” The vacuum clicked on, conveniently ruining any chance to ask questions or comment.

Saguru lingered in the entryway. The broken glasses had been cheap and generic, the plate was a pattern Saguru had seen for sale when he had bought his own dishes. Still, they had been Kuroba’s and there had been no call to destroy them.

In the living room portion of the main room was a half-finished game of cards and an abandoned dish of _senbei_ showing exactly what Kuroba and Takumi had been doing when Aoko arrived. In the kitchen area, Kuroba went over each section of tatami with exaggerated patience, his shoulders too tense to be anything but uncomfortable with Saguru’s presence. Kuroba’s once neglected plant had new green leaves. A new book sat on Kuroba’s bookshelf. It was on bone china teacups, likely in reference for something at the museum.

The vacuum clicked off. Kuroba crouched over it, one hand smoothing over the tatami as if in reassurance that the glass was gone. “Are you just going to stand in the entryway?” he asked, still not facing Saguru.

That was, Saguru supposed, hint enough to either get in the apartment proper or to leave. He stepped into the room and knelt next to the strewn papers to help pick them up at least. Kuroba glanced over sharply and winced.

“You really don’t have to help.”

“Would you rather I kept staring?” Saguru asked. In truth, kneeling was unpleasant on his bad knee, but it gave his hands something to do. A bill joined a few letters joined junk mail joined a notice from the school that Saguru had passed around to students several days ago. Tucked in with the papers were handwritten notes scrawled on bits of scrap paper. Some of it looked like it might be in some form of code. Saguru didn’t let his eyes linger over it, just tucked it in with the rest and moved on to gathering up paper napkins. Kuroba’s hand on his wrist stopped him.

“Really.” Kuroba sighed yet again, running his free hand through his hair and leaving it in even more disarray. “It’s not a big deal. Don’t go messing your knee up over a few papers.”

Saguru handed him the napkins he’d gathered and turned the napkin holder right side up. “I’m well aware of my limitations and a few minutes picking up papers is within them.”

“I wasn’t trying to imply that, I was just…” Kuroba gathered the rest of the stuff off the floor and set it haphazardly on the table. “There. All clean.”

Questionably clean. Still, when Kuroba stood up and moved to gather up the cards in the living room, Saguru followed.

Cards arced between Kuroba’s hands like an afterthought, flipping and flaring through complicated motions through muscle memory alone. “I know what you’re probably thinking,” he said. “But before you get pissed at Aoko for breaking stuff, realize that she once asked me to quit being Kid and I said no. And then she got promoted to head of the task force and I’m a constant threat to her job security if she fails too often and forever taunting who I am at her in her opinion.”

Saguru wanted to say that that still did not justify destruction of Kuroba’s property. And yet he was also too aware that they were still at the start of a friendship despite how their shared history made it feel longer. He couldn’t bring himself to push the matter. “Your relationship with Aoko-san,” he said instead, “is between the two of you. So long as you aren’t harming each other,” and sadly he couldn’t necessarily include emotional or mental hurt in that statement, “then I’ll keep out of it.”

Kuroba glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, cards doing a perfect bridge between his hands. “You’re censoring yourself again.”

Saguru said nothing and the cards stilled in Kuroba’s hands. The deck slid into his shirt pocket, right above his heart.

“You know,” Kuroba said, “it’s not like anything has really changed. She’s just doesn’t have a mop at hand most of the time.”

“And the arguments are no longer good hearted at their core,” Saguru countered. “I always wondered what would happen if you were too slow to dodge back then.”

“Then I’d have been hit,” Kuroba said casually. “But I’ve never been slow to dodge and Aoko never really aims to hit.”

“All it takes is one—” Saguru started, irritation overcoming his desire not to push, and Kuroba cut him off.

“I know.” He finally looked at Saguru then, tired and serious with something sharp in his eyes. “I know exactly how it is to be slow to dodge,” Kuroba said. He tapped the deck of cards over his heart and Saguru thought about gun statistics and the upward trend of shootings at Kid heists over the last decade, the list of civilians who had been injured over the years by ricochets or from being unfortunate enough to be caught in the crossfire—both literal and not—between Kid and those after him. “And I know what it looks like when someone strikes with actual injury in mind. That’s not what is going on. She breaks things because she _doesn’t_ want to break me.” Kuroba stared Saguru down until Saguru had to look away.

“It would be better if she could avoid destruction entirely. If she ever did hit you, she wouldn’t forgive herself.”

Kuroba smiled, a bitter twist of his lips. “Well, it’s good that I have plenty of practice dodging. _Senbei_?” he nodded at the bowl on the coffee table.

“No thank you.”

Kuroba nodded, smile still fixed in place as he finally rebuilt his masks. “Thanks for checking on me,” Kuroba said, and Saguru could take a hint.

“I’m glad nothing was too badly damaged,” Saguru said. “It seems you really do have the mess taken care of.”

“Yeah. Yeah I do. Sorry for the disturbance and all.”

Saguru shook his head. He let Kuroba subtly herd him toward the door with a few more empty comments between them. It felt like he should have been able to do more, but he wasn’t sure where he’d gone wrong in the exchange this time or if Kuroba really did prefer to be alone now to having Saguru hover around the evidence of the argument.

“Goodnight, Hakuba,” Kuroba said when Saguru was in the doorway again.

He shut the door before Saguru could come up with a way to convey the same message without sounding trivializing. The right words never came.

***

Saguru jolted awake the next morning with the thump of someone sitting next to him. He jolted around to see what the hell it was and was confronted by a pair of crossed legs in dress slacks. The legs, of course, were attached to Kuroba Kaito. It was...fifteen minutes until his alarm went off. Kuroba grinned as Saguru frowned a bit more each passing second.

“Why?” Saguru asked, hating being cheated out of a few more minutes of sleep. This was getting back for barging in last night where he wasn’t wanted, wasn’t it?

“Just cuz,” Kuroba said.

Saguru groaned and pressed his palms to his eyes. Kuroba snickered. “Shut up,” Saguru muttered. Something warm and smooth bumped the back of his hand. A paper to-go cup, clearly full of something hot.

Kuroba tapped his hand with it again, still grinning. “Earl Grey. Not coffee, I promise.”

Saguru sat up and took the cup, turning it around in his hands, half wary that it was some kind of trap.

“And for breakfast...” Kuroba held up two paper bags. “You have a choice of ham and cheese croissants or apple raisin bread.”

“...croissant, please.” Were they just going to pretend nothing happened last night?

Kuroba handed over the croissant bag without even trying to make a performance of it. He took a roll out of the other bag and munched on it. Belatedly, Saguru noticed a second cup next to Kuroba’s knee.

“Felt like an early morning out?” Saguru asked. The croissants were fresh; the cheese was still a bit warm.

“Or something,” Kuroba said with a hum.

This was an apology, Saguru realized. A roundabout, non-vocal one, but a truce of sorts all the same. Since Saguru doubted there were any words that would smooth out what happened last night or their previous conversation about Kid, Saguru would take what he could get. Considering everything, the silence as they finished their respective breakfasts was companionable. Saguru couldn’t even stay annoyed that he’d been woken up early. Kuroba had gotten his tea perfect, a spoonful of sugar and a splash of milk.

The beep of Saguru’s alarm cut through the air and Kuroba turned it off before stretching. “And that’s my cue to go,” he said. “I have an errand to run before work.”

“Right.” Which was why he’d been visiting so early then. Had Kuroba slept last night? “Thank you for the croissant,” Saguru said, holding the bag out.

Kuroba waved it away. “Have it for a snack later. Actually, take them both.”

“But—”

“Have to go. Later, Hakuba!” Kuroba waved and ducked out the front door before Saguru could even start in on the protest that it was _Kuroba’s_ breakfast. What was with him and bringing Saguru food?

And they still hadn’t mentioned last night.

Saguru frowned at his front door. “Really, Kuroba? Really?” Saguru flopped back on his futon. He was fully awake now thanks to the food and caffeine.

Apparently they were going to just go on as if nothing happened. Well, Saguru could do that. He’d just tuck everything to the back of his mind and wait until the topic came up again in the future. It wasn’t like it would never come up again.

Damn Kuroba’s stubbornness.

He rolled out of bed, making the plan to stop by the store after work. He’d ‘accidentally’ make too much curry tonight and leave a portion for Kuroba. If Kuroba was going to gloss over everything with peace gestures, Saguru could at least make the effort to meet him halfway.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Okay, so I know I probably upset somebody with this chapter’s depiction of Aoko. No, they’re not always like that, and no, that sort of behavior is not a normal thing, nor is it ok (holy crap is it not ok). The way I see Aoko, is that canonically she has a lot of anger issues. It’s played up for slapstick laughs, but Aoko snaps pretty easily and her first instinct is usually to lash out at Kaito physically—largely because Kaito’s baited her in the first place, but that’s a whole different issue. (Kaito has his own buttload of not cool behaviors that make me side eye their ability to have a healthy romantic relationship to be honest, but that’s not what is going on in this chapter). For this AU, I see Aoko as continuing on with her lashing out at Kaito and him merrily dodging because he expects it—right up until she gets to police school and at some point or another there’s a talk about domestic violence. And Aoko has an “Oh shit” moment where she examines her and Kaito’s dynamic and is distressed. And so she makes a promise to herself to never try to physically harm him again when she’s angry (playful swats don’t equal attempting to smack him with a mop, ok? Ok. There’s a line.) But Aoko doesn’t necessarily internalize the whole thing behind that and she still has anger issues, anger issues she never really learned to fully control or work through. Usually they’re yelling, but there’s still years of physical reaction habit, and occasionally there is collateral damage in the form of objects. It’s still not ok that she’s breaking Kaito’s things. Kaito, for his part, recognizes that she’s trying not to hurt him and sees that effort and dismisses the other parts of it because on some level he feels he deserves every moment of her lashing out. (Nnnnot cool behavior on his part either.) He also has the habit of stone-walling when Aoko gets to a certain point and not reacting can actually make the situation worse than reacting would, and just...all around bad things. :/ Honestly this is the worst moment I will write between them, and usually they have a balance of snippy-but-also-care going on, with Aoko being the more negatively inclined between the two. But they’ve been kind of tiptoeing around with Hakuba there so they haven’t been having as many smaller arguments, and to some extent this was a while coming. The anniversary date was just the trigger for it to come out. (And yes, Saguru’s conversation with Kaito did come up in the argument, but no, it wasn’t a catalyst for it. Aoko and Kaito are more likely to fight around emotionally significant dates and right before/after Kid heists for obvious reasons.) I hope I didn’t make anyone too angry with this. I like Aoko. I like Kaito too. I don’t necessarily like the dynamic they’re set up with or what it implies (Kaito finding her anger funny/instigating her anger/Aoko ok with physically harming Kaito).
> 
> ((On a much different note, I wanted to make it very clear that Takumi recognizes it’s not good and that his parents shouldn’t get back together. I will admit I included it because the whole ‘Ran trying to reunite her parents’ bit in DC frustrated me a good deal even though I get why she might have the impulse to do so. ...This might also be a time to admit that I have been in the position Takumi’s in listening to parents argue while an unhealthy relationship strangles on far longer than it should have. It sucks. Anxiety inducing like heck. So if this chapter is something that’s upsetting, I apologize, empathize, and honestly won’t blame you if you skip it and wait for the next one. There’s nothing in here that you need to know beyond: Hakuba sees Kaito/Aoko at their worst and tries to help how he can in the aftermath and with their son. If just the argument would be upsetting, try reading from the single “*”))


	11. Chapter 11

Saguru took a long minute to relax, slouching in his desk chair at the end of the school day. There was no club activity today, no staff meeting, no event to take his time and patience, no student looking to talk and, most important of all, it was the weekend tomorrow. Grading work was lighter than usual due to lack of major assignments due that week and he had his lesson plans down for the next two weeks provided things went smoothly. Thank goodness for forethought and planning, and time that he didn’t know what to do with just yet. He could find something to do, like read a book or track down his favorite brand of tea at a European market since he was running low.

“Wow, you look tired,” Takata Kate said. “It’s been a pretty long week, huh?”

“Weeks are always long, some merely feel longer than others,” Saguru said. This week had actually been fairly mild compared to the week from hell that home visits had been. Nevertheless, it was always a relief to greet the weekend.

“Don’t I know it,” Takata said. She stretched, jumping a bit when one of her hands touched someone behind her. She looked up and grinned when she saw her husband. “Hey.”

He smiled at her, warm and intimate though they made no displays of affection. “Hello to you too. Some of the others are hoping to get dinner and drinks tonight, are you up to going?”

“Sure, sure.” She leaned back in her chair to better talk to his face. “I’m sure your mom won’t mind looking after Ken-kun a little longer, right?”

“I’ll call her.”

Takata smiled and swiveled back around to Saguru, “You want to come along? Just for dinner and drinks, you don’t have to stay any longer than you’re comfortable with.” The same hopeful smile she always gave him, friendly and honest about the offer of friendship, was tempered with resignation. She expected to be refused, like she had the past half dozen times she’d offered, but was offering anyway because she still meant that invitation.

Saguru weighed the prospect of his anticipated night of relaxation with his guilt at brushing off that offer once again. A voice in the back of his mind suspiciously like Mum’s prodded him to _just live a little_. When was the last time he had gone out to eat with another person? Not for months, he realized, not since Mum visited his flat in London and all but dragged him out of his self-isolation and stagnancy.

“Where and when?” Saguru asked. He smiled a bit wryly at the pleased surprise that crossed Takata’s face before her smile widened.

“Not sure. Katsuya?”

Her husband looked up from typing a number into his phone. “Well, the plan is to meet up in a few hours at that barbecue place not far from the post office. It’s about half a block away from the Kaga hotel, but before you reach the French bakery on the same street. I think the barbecue place is called Hitsujimon or something?”

Saguru nodded slowly, the location coming vaguely to mind. He passed that way to get groceries. “I believe I know where that is, yes.”

“Great!” Takata clapped her hands. “Meet up there at six! We’ll be getting a big table.”

Saguru nodded again. The time was probably due to the fact that other teachers still had a club meeting to supervise or some other detail to take care of. He absently listened to Takata and her husband making plans with her mother-in-law over having a babysitter for a few more hours and gathered up what he would need over the weekend. He sent Takata a smile on his way out, wondering as he left how many of his coworkers would be there. He hadn’t made much of an effort to get to know them. Takata was the only person he talked to regularly about anything more than he had to. Any positive impressions he could have made were long past.

Teams were out on the sports fields as Saguru left. He could make out the lacrosse team on the eastern side. Takumi would be there. From the bits of practices Saguru had glimpsed and the few times Kuroba mentioned his son’s sport, Takumi had a good chance of being a starter this year despite being a first year. If he’d inherited either Kuroba or Aoko’s athleticism in the slightest, it wasn’t a surprise that he was good at the sport.

The stairs to the apartment building felt steeper today, though perhaps that was the long week talking. He didn’t relish the idea of having to climb them again later. He took them slowly, doing his best not to aggravate his knee in hopes that it would handle the trip tonight without much problem. When he reached the top of the stairs, he was surprised to see Kuroba unlocking his front door, a bag of groceries in hand.

“Hey, Hakuba,” Kuroba greeted with a wave of his hand.

“You’re here early,” Saguru said. It was only a little past three-thirty and Kuroba ordinarily didn’t return until closer to five.

“I figured I’d take off early and actually cook something nice for dinner for once,” Kuroba said, lifting the grocery bag. “Surprise Takumi when he’s done with practice.”

Saguru was half tempted to ask what Kuroba normally cooked that would make tonight’s meal special, but he didn’t. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.” He dug his keys out of his bag and unlocked his door.

Kuroba lingered in his own doorway. “Did you want to have dinner with us?” he asked after a moment.

Saguru almost dropped his keys. Despite sharing tea on a fairly regular basis—more often than not at Saguru’s apartment—Kuroba had never invited him to share dinner.

Kuroba looked on, seemingly casual as he leaned against the doorway. It was the set of his shoulders that left it almost a challenge. Saguru didn’t have the slightest idea what he was supposed to draw from the invitation.

“Actually, Kuroba,” he said, unlocking his door properly, “I have plans tonight.”

“Really?” Both of Kuroba’s eyebrows went up.

“Yes really,” Saguru sighed. “Some of the teaching staff is going out to eat tonight.”

“You’ve turned them down before.”

Saguru was sure he didn’t want to know where Kuroba had gotten that information. (He suspected their old homeroom teacher still kept in touch with Kuroba. It would explain how he kept track of things in the school, at least in part.) “I can’t be antisocial forever.”

“Right, because your mother will come and force you to be.”

Saguru rolled his eyes. Kuroba wasn’t exactly wrong. “There truly isn’t a reason not to this time,” he said. “I might as well make an effort to not alienate my coworkers.”

Kuroba laughed, “Well, have fun.”

“Same to you,” Saguru said.

Saguru closed the door behind himself with the feeling that he was having a very odd day. Two invitations shortly after each other. It was a pity he’d already had plans. He wouldn’t have minded eating dinner with Kuroba. Perhaps another time…?

He took his shoes off and set his cane and bag down next to his desk. He had an hour of time to fill. He managed to use that much time easily on a regular basis, it shouldn’t be hard to keep busy…

***

Saguru probably should have dressed in something more casual. Surely most of his coworkers had taken the time to change into clothing that wasn’t work regulation, but Saguru had found himself trading his plain white work shirt for a striped button down and a slightly nicer pair of slacks in an effort to feel more put together. He hadn’t put on a full suit at least, though his fingers had itched to do so. Wearing a full suit as the weather was getting progressively warmer would have been a bit much too.

It was probably a bit foolish to be nervous about meeting up with coworkers. This was hardly something serious. It was relaxing after a long work week. Socializing.

Saguru scowled to himself, setting his cane down just a bit harder with each step toward the barbecue place’s front door. He opened the door and stepped in to a very busy restaurant. It was very tempting to turn around and walk back out. He took a breath and let it out slowly. His table wasn’t visible from the door, but there was what appeared to be a birthday party up close, a group of college students—celebrating the end of a show? They had stage makeup on—a couple on a date and— Saguru’s attention snapped to the hostess walking toward him.

“Welcome, are you here alone or…?”

“I am meeting a group here.”

“How many in this group, what name?”

He didn’t know either of those things. Saguru glanced at the tables again and could feel the hostess losing patience although her professional smile never faltered. The door opened and closed behind him, letting in someone who was laughing at whoever they were with.

“Ah!” a voice behind him said, and Saguru turned stiffly to see Shizume-sensei. “Hakuba-san, I didn’t know you were joining us tonight.”

Saguru relaxed as his old homeroom teacher walked up to him, followed by a man who appeared to be her husband if his wedding band and proximity to Shizume-sensei’s personal space were any indicator. “Good evening, Shizume-sensei,” Saguru said.

“No need to be so formal,” she laughed, “I told you, call me Erika. I’m not your homeroom teacher anymore.”

“My apologies, Erika-san.” Saguru nodded to her, just short of a bow. “Please, you may call me Saguru.” It was a step toward friendly gestures, and from her smile, it was enough.

“This is my husband, Shizume Daiki. Daiki, this is Hakuba Saguru. He’s the teacher filling in for Yumi-san that I mentioned.”

Saguru nodded to him as well, murmuring a polite response on autopilot. Shizume was almost a decade older than Erika from the looks of him, a salaryman if Saguru’s instinct was right—something about the way casual clothing sat awkwardly on him like he was used to the formality of a suit. How Erika had met him or gotten on well, Saguru couldn’t guess. Arranged marriage? Mixer? Random encounter? He dismissed it as Shizume-sen—Erika talked to the hostess, getting them escorted to a table around the corner where the Takatas were seated with Ishida, one of the science teachers.

Takata Kate waved them over. “Hey, you’re here! Sit, sit.” She pulled out a chair next to her and Saguru found himself seated between her and Erika with Ishida across from him. “Now we just have Yamada-san and Arisa-chan to wait for. Time to order drinks!”

“Looks like someone has already been into hers,” Erika joked.

“She hasn’t had a sip of beer yet,” Takata’s husband said.

“Aaand,” Ishida said, looking over their shoulders, “it looks like she soon will.”

Drinks were placed on the table to happy sounds from the people who had ordered them, and to the requests from people who had yet to order. When it was his turn, Saguru asked for water. He ignored Ishida’s joke that Saguru was being their designated babysitter. He’d heard that sort of joke a hundred times before when he was avoiding alcohol.

By the time Yamada Makoto, the gym teacher, and Uemoto Arisa, a maths teacher, arrived, drinks had been distributed and the first round of meat and vegetables were grilling on the mesh grill built into the center of the table. Saguru had spent the time sipping at water and having surprisingly pleasant conversation with Erika about things that had changed from when Saguru was in school to now. She had laughed when she realized Saguru had Takumi in his homeroom, commiserating over having a Kuroba in his class. In return, he reassured her that Takumi had far more restraint than either of his parents and was actually a fairly well behaved student now. She would be teaching him next year as she still largely taught second year students.

The newcomers changed the dynamic some, and Saguru’s conversation fell away to people watching. It was something he had always defaulted to when he was the only one of a group not ingesting alcohol. There was something interesting in how people interacted with each other with some of their restraint and reserve taken away; they revealed more about themselves than they would otherwise, often more than they were aware.

Saguru snatched pieces of beef and onion off the grill at his preferred cooked state, avoided attempts of coworkers to sneak mushrooms onto his plate, and exchanged idle conversation about work and students and general complaints about workload as the rest of the group got steadily more inebriated. Unsurprisingly, Takata Kate got more enthusiastic with each successive drink and less careful about social boundaries. No one seemed to mind. At one point she leaned on Saguru to reach the bowl of green onion salad with no one blinking, so Saguru took it that this was a regular thing. At some point, Yamada pulled out her phone and shared around pictures of Yumi’s baby who had been born a few days ago. It was a bit odd to be the new person in a group that regularly went out together, but Saguru didn’t feel alienated.

No one seemed to mind that after a certain point he watched instead of engaged in conversing. Erika was closest to Yamada, who it seemed had become a teacher at the school shortly after Saguru graduated. Ishida and Uemoto were close friends with Takata Katsuya, and through Katsuya, were friends with Kate, and Takata Kate had been a student teacher aide under Erika, which led the group to meeting together. Saguru supposed he had been welcomed so easily into their midst in part by Takata’s persistent friendly overtures toward him and in part because Erika knew of him. Whatever the reason for this acceptance, Saguru learned that Erika and  Ishida held their drink best among the group (Takata being able to hold her drink the least), Shizume Daiki had probably once dated Yamada (there was just a bit of discomfort in how they interacted with each other that indicated that Yamada still held a bit of affection though it didn’t seem to affect her relationship with Erika), and if Uemoto wasn’t clearly only interested in friendship, Ishida would have been interested in more. It all felt a bit dramatic how the relationships tangled together, but Saguru supposed sometimes longtime friend groups could do so if all the parties weren’t married or in relationships. He wouldn’t personally know, but he had observed it happen over the years from the outside.

When it came time to split the bill, Takata was already championing they continue the night at a bar.

“It’ll be fun,” she said leaning, thankfully, on her husband. “Maybe we can find a place doing karaoke.”

“I think,” Saguru said, cutting in, “I’ll call it a night.”

Immediately there were at least four voices insisting he stay a bit longer. “Just another half hour,” Takata said. “To round out the night.”

Faced with at least several people (Erika and Takata chief among them) giving him hopeful looks, Saguru found himself agreeing to stay at least a bit longer. “But only a bit,” he said.

“Yesss.” Takata laughed triumphantly. “See, it’s not that bad coming out with us!”

Saguru gave her a smile, although he had to admit that he had enjoyed the evening a bit more before everyone’s second or third drink. He added his portion of the bill to the pile before getting swept along in the others’ wake toward a bar that was just a bit further down the road.

Shizume Daiki hung back with Saguru as he took the rear of the group largely in hope of avoiding being the focus of Takata’s enthusiasm.

“They’re usually a bit calmer,” Shizume assured him. He had only had one drink so far, clearly intending to be one of the clearer headed of the group, though he likely had the best tolerance of all of them considering the expected drinking habits of businessmen. “I think they wanted to celebrate Yumi-san’s daughter.”

“Understandable.” Saguru smiled. “I don’t mind much. It’s merely been a while since I was around so many people who were quite so…”

“Animated?” Shizume offered diplomatically.

“Yes. I’ve gotten used to quiet nights in. This sort of thing is nice every once in a while though.”

“Erika was glad to see you again when she found out you were replacing Yumi-san. You must have left a good impression.”

“If I did, I admit I am not sure how. I didn’t spend much time in Japan,” Saguru said, reflecting back to his high school years. “I spent several semesters here, but was frequently absent due to my professional life.”

“She was impressed at your maturity I think, and how you balanced being a student and having a career,” he said. “You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders.”

Saguru shrugged, not sure how to respond to that. If Shizume knew the circumstances that had led Saguru to this point, surely he would think otherwise. “Erika-san was a good homeroom teacher,” he said instead. “She had a difficult job.” One he had appreciated all the more once he started teaching, though he had never had to deal with anyone quite as chaotic as Kuroba, Aoko, and Koizumi grouped together.

“I’ve heard the horror stories.” Ahead of them, Takata leaned on Erika as they both giggled over some joke that Ishida had told. Shizume smiled in their direction. “Did this Kuroba Kaito really manage to stick the entire classroom to the ceiling at some point?”

“Ah, I wasn’t present for that one,” Saguru said, “but there was photographic evidence of it. I believe it’s become something of a school legend.”

Shizume laughed. “Kuroba-san seems like he was an interesting person.”

“He is,” Saguru agreed. He would have gladly continued the conversation with Kuroba as the topic, but the group had found their bar of choice and were filtering in, so Saguru and Shizume hurried along to catch up.

It was incredibly crowded inside. Saguru stopped just to the right of the doorway, back against the wall as he tried to take in the mass of people moving around each other in cigarette-fogged air. One side of the bar was heavy with people getting their drinks before they filtered to the scattering of tables or to fill the space around a small stage where people were singing off-key renditions of songs Saguru didn’t recognize. Another group of people entered behind Saguru’s group and almost instantly, Takata and the others were lost in the crush.

Saguru pinched the bridge of his nose, tempted to turn around and just walk out. Crowded bars had never been his taste. They were even less so now. But it would be impolite to leave without at least saying goodbye. He eyed the people, sure that at one point he saw Yamada’s bleached hair, and Takata’s brightly colored shirt at another, but he had no desire to wade into that mess. He’d probably end up losing his cane at best, and leave bruised at worst.

He inched his way along the wall, ending up closer to the kitchens and bathrooms where there were fewest people, being the furthest distance from the bar and the stage. There weren’t any chairs available, so he staked out a stretch of wall that was out of the way to lean against and sincerely hoped that some of the rush would calm enough that he could excuse himself properly and leave.

He checked his wrist watch, surprised to see the time past nine already and decided that he’d leave in a half hour regardless and give his apologies later.

The doors to the kitchen opened and some brave waiter waded into the people with trays of food in hands.

Saguru settled himself more heavily against the wall. He wouldn’t be going anywhere fast. People moved in and out of the tangle around the bar, a new group came in only to turn around again at the sight of the crowd. It was fascinating, in a distant way, how people could crowd against each other, moving almost seamlessly until there was that individual or two that did not move with the crowd and the press jammed up around them. One such individual broke free from the bar and seemed to have the same idea Saguru had had. The man cradled his drink to his chest until he reached the back wall, closer down to the bathrooms than Saguru was standing, and leaned against it. He could almost hear the weight of the man’s sigh as his shoulders started to relax.

It was a sentiment that Saguru could empathize with. There were far, far too many people in here. It might be violating the fire code. Saguru went back to people watching, taking note of the table not far from them that had a group of young men that seemed to be egging each other on to drink more. They were the rowdiest table this far away from the bar and karaoke machine by far, and he sincerely hoped that none of them did anything stupid like starting a fight.

He was only peripherally aware of the man sharing the wall until on a scan of the room, Saguru realized he was a lot closer than he had been before.

“Here alone too?” the man asked, sipping his drink. He didn’t seem to be drinking much of it, or perhaps he was savoring it, for there wasn’t much gone. He was watching the crowd as well, eyes fixed on them instead of Saguru.

“No.” Saguru turned his eyes back to search for a glimpse of his group, but no luck. “I’ve been separated from my coworkers.”

“Oh.” There were a few beats of silence before the man tried to strike up a conversation again. “Do you come to this sort of place often?”

Saguru frowned, glancing subtly to try and gauge where the conversation attempt was headed, but the man still wasn’t looking at him. He was younger than Saguru, though Saguru would guess that it wasn’t by more than five years, dressed in a suit, still put together and straight laced despite the environment. Businessman, young, but not so young that he hadn’t likely established himself, and unused to crowded bars, which was a bit surprising if he really was a businessman like Saguru hypothesized. Drinking was part of business culture in Japan; it would be near impossible to avoid it. Unless there was another reason he looked uncomfortable?

“Or…not,” the man muttered. He swirled his drink in his glass, glancing up at the ceiling. He seemed to come to a decision because he shifted so he was angled toward Saguru rather than the room at large. “It wasn’t this crowded the last time I was here,” he said, pressing on. “If I’d known it’d be this…” He took another breath. “This doesn’t look like your kind of thing either.”

“It’s not,” Saguru said slowly. He took in the man’s tight grip on his glass, the way he was trying to look at Saguru without staring too hard, and the subtle angling of his posture and it finally clicked. He was being hit on. And rather badly at that. Part of Saguru’s mind felt shocked, perhaps because this sort of thing hadn’t happened in a long while. He’d either had his partner with him or the people he interacted with knew he was in a relationship. Another part wondered why on earth it was happening here since this was definitely not one of Tokyo’s gay bars. “I’m not a fan of crowds of strangers.”

Something like relief filled the man’s eyes, relief that Saguru had answered rather than letting conversation hang in a void, and he turned more fully. “I usually come in the middle of the week. It’s much quieter then.”

“It would be.” Bars were, generally, far quieter during a work week than when the weekend came around since few people had to wake up for their job the next day on a weekend. “You usually visit bars alone?” Saguru prodded. He might as well have a conversation while he waited.

“Ah, not always…” He looked flustered, both hands gripping his drink again. “Only recently. I suppose it’s more fun with people rather than…”

“Overwhelming?”

“Yes. Although I’ll admit, even with people I’ve never really been to anywhere quite as busy as this…”

Saguru quirked a brow. Used to higher class drinking places? Either he had connections or he was already climbing the ranks in whatever his job was through skill. Or both. Nepotism was hardly rare, but he couldn’t judge based on a bit of social awkwardness alone. “I’ll admit it’s been about a decade since I’ve been somewhere like this.” Not entirely true—he had been to bars like this on cases, and to Mel’s cast parties, but the work calls usually were outside of business hours, and Saguru usually at least knew most of the people in the room with the cast parties.

“Surely not that long,” the man said, probably trying to gauge Saguru’s age.

Saguru smiled to himself. “Give or take a bit. But that was never my scene.”

“And what was?” There, the leaning in, showing interest, the man’s eyes on Saguru’s face and just a hint of pink in his cheeks. He was definitely interested and Saguru was just curious enough to feel a flicker of interest back.

“A good book and quiet company.”

“Sounds nice. I’d take a book over this any day,” the man said, waving one hand and spilling just a bit of his drink down his shirt as he leaned just a hint further into Saguru’s space. “Though it would depend on the company.”

“A book can be infinitely more enjoyable when read in company of another,” Saguru said, and really had to wonder at the direction the conversation had taken because while he truly did enjoy a book read in the company of a loved one, it was starting to feel like a metaphor for something else entirely. He cleared his throat. “Ah, you spilled a bit of your drink.”

All inviting body language was instantly gone as the man looked down at himself. “Damn. I just…” He sighed.

Saguru offered him a handkerchief and got a strained laugh in return.

“Thank you.” The man dabbed at his shirt. When he handed the handkerchief back, he couldn’t quite look in Saguru’s direction. “Sorry for…yeah. I don’t have any idea what I’m doing.”

“Trying to flirt?” Saguru said bluntly.

The man’s cheeks turned pink and he took a gulp of his drink, grimaced. “Trying. I’m…I really don’t do this sort of thing much.”

“Come to bars or hit on men?” Saguru asked, feeling a bit amused.

“Either?” His cheeks got darker. “I never really gave it much thought, and then there’s half my coworkers getting married and…”

“You started to think about it,” Saguru finished. He could sympathize. Not empathize because he’d figured out where he stood in his sexuality in his teen years, but he knew it wasn’t uncommon to not realize until much later.

“Only I have no idea what I’m doing, and I just end up at bars my coworkers will never be at and just end up drinking by myself.”

“You’re fortunate you were hitting on me, not someone else.”

Another strangled sounding laugh net this. “Oh, I know. I’ve had some bad reactions. Since you’re not reacting like that, are you…?”

“I like men if that’s what you’re asking.”

The man relaxed even further. “Have any tips…?”

Saguru gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with Tokyo’s LGBT population. I’ve spent most of the last decade and a half in England.”

“Oh! Oh.” He blinked, now looking a different sort of embarrassed. “Your Japanese is very—”

“I was born in Japan,” Saguru cut in before the man could backtrack any more. “That said, even I am aware that Shinjuku Ni-choume is the area to go if you’re looking for gay bars in Tokyo.”

“I went there once but…” The man shrugged. “It was a bit of a culture shock. Crowded, and, well…sex oriented?”

Saguru was tempted to ask what had been expected from bars, especially when a large portion of the gay populace lived double lives and looked for anonymous hookups, but that would be a bit callous to ask someone who seemed to still be figuring out their sexual identity.

“Sex is a nice thought,” the man continued, “but maybe after getting to know someone and having a relationship or…” He trailed off, embarrassed again. “I got made fun of for being a romantic.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting a relationship.” Saguru felt a bit like when he had had students come to him with sexuality questions, only more awkward because this was a complete stranger. “There is nothing wrong with wanting a relationship without sex either.”

“I don’t think that would be a problem,” the man said, and over the speakers, Saguru heard a new song come on. He winced internally as he realized it was Takata singing ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.’ Well, at least he knew where to find his coworkers now. “But a romantic relationship would be nicer. I’m almost thirty and I never really thought about life outside of work, and now I would really _like_ to have someone to…” He stopped talking. “Anyway. Thanks for listening to me ramble.”

“I’m sure you’re not the only romantic in Tokyo,” Saguru said. He glanced at his watch. Almost half an hour had passed. He should probably either brave the mob or leave.

“I’m Nakahara Hiroto,” the man finally said, offering a Western style handshake.

It was an automatic response to shake it. “Saguru,” Saguru said, because there was no harm in responding with a first name at least.

He got a blinding smile in response. “I’m glad to meet you, Saguru-san.”

“…Same.” Saguru slid his hand free, a bit off kilter at the blatant enthusiasm. Nakahara had a nice smile though, he noted absently. He could catch plenty of attention if he smiled at people like that frequently. Maybe for his sake, it would catch the attention of someone interested in more than just casual sex. Takata’s song was ending, but his coworkers were still lost somewhere in the mass of people. There wasn’t any point in staying longer. He cleared his throat, standing straight again. “Well, I believe I’m going to call it a night,” he said. “Best of luck with finding…” Was Nakahara looking for a boyfriend, a date, something else…? “…someone with similar interests,” Saguru finished for lack of more fitting words.

“Ah. Thanks.”

Saguru turned away, leaving Nakahara looking after him as he braved the crowd to reach the doors. The air, when he finally got free, felt wonderfully fresh in comparison to the mingled scents of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and people. He turned in the direction of home only to pause when he heard his name.

“Saguru-san!” Nakahara said again, leaving the bar. He had abandoned his drink and his neat suit was slightly rumpled from rushing out after Saguru, but his eyes held determination even as his face flushed red. “I know you’re probably not interested, but!” A rectangle of cardstock was pressed into Saguru’s hand. Nakahara’s face went even redder, but he met Saguru’s eyes. “If you ever are interested, please do call.”

Saguru blinked down at the business card—for a high end financial company, so he was right about Nakahara being a businessman—and when he looked back up it was to see Nakahara’s back as he returned to the bar, the glimpse of his profile showing that he was still blushing heavily.

When he started this night, he hadn’t expected to end it with a phone number in hand. The piece of paper felt heavy as he pocketed it, sitting like a guilty secret against his hip. Kuroba would laugh his head off if he knew someone had chased after Saguru to give him their number. Come to think of it, Mel would have too. Saguru shook his head.

He should probably throw the card out. He didn’t though, and it was placed on his desk that night instead of finding a home in his burnable trash.

It had been a strange encounter, but he supposed he could give Nakahara points for effort at least. It was also flattering as it was rare to have men or women show interest. He’d keep the card as a reminder if his self-confidence ever ran low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saguru's being more social. Not really much Kaito in this one, and I feel a bit bad about it, but having Saguru make an effort to socialize outside of just Kaito felt like a step toward his recovery, and thus needed doing. ^_^; So lots of OCs for this chapter >_>


	12. Chapter 12

 

The first storm of the rainy season hit, bringing with it a new heist notice. Even avoiding most media outlets, it was impossible to miss the news. As rain pounded against the windows, Saguru’s homeroom students passed newspapers back and forth before the start of the school day. Takumi hunched over a newspaper of his own, chewing on a pen cap as he ignored classmates trying to ask his opinion about the heist.

From what Saguru gathered (from gossiping students and a paper left conveniently in the staff room), they were rapidly nearing Kid’s two hundredth heist since his ‘return.’ This would be the hundred and ninety-eighth. It was a ridiculously high number, but when Saguru stopped to think about it, Kuroba had been active as Kid for around seventeen years, and that number put his record at just under one heist a month. There were times when Kid pulled multiple heists a month, so there was the question of how many months over the years had been skipped, and for what reasons. Injuries, Saguru guessed, likely had been among them, and family matters. Kuroba’s marriage, Takumi’s birth, and his divorce would have affected Kid’s activity. At any rate, gossip was high as back at Kid’s hundredth heist Kid had pulled an extravagant theft that had left experts puzzling for years how it had done it. There was speculation on what he would pull off when the two hundredth one finally rolled around. With this sort of thing going on, Saguru could imagine that Aoko was getting even more people from the press showing up. The expectation had to be a weight on Kuroba too. It made sense why Kuroba had said earlier in the week that he wouldn’t have free time until the following week.

The heist date and time were filed away, and set aside to the back of Saguru’s mind. Old habits died hard even if he was keeping his nose out of Kid’s business.

***

The soft chime of an incoming text message cut through the stillness almost a half-hour before his alarm was due to go off, waking Saguru from a restless sleep. He had fallen asleep late in the night due to a thunder storm rattling the windows and rumbling through his bones with each lightning strike. Saguru flailed an arm, searching for his phone where he’d left it on its charger the night before. He squinted against the bright screen. One text from Kuroba Aoko, received at five thirty-two AM.

_Did Kaito come home last night?_

Saguru was abruptly awake. Right, the Kid heist had been last night. The target had been an emerald owned by a foreign visitor leaving a short window of time to prepare and attempt a heist. But the heist had been held at midnight; even given the necessary time to evade the police and the night’s storm, Kuroba should have returned several hours ago.

If Aoko was texting Saguru, Kuroba wasn’t answering her. That she was asking if Kuroba had returned meant she had reason to believe he hadn’t. In the past few months, Kuroba had been injured once that Saguru knew of already. He was willing to bet that if he looked into it, Aoko would confirm that there was an uptick in the number of injuries on heists in the past year.

Saguru let out a breath, clenching the phone tight before texting Aoko back. _Unsure. Let me check._ He hadn’t tried to wait up last night. Even if he had, would he have even been able to hear Kuroba return with the storm?

He rolled out of bed, not bothering to make himself presentable. Saguru leaned on his good leg, knocking on Kuroba’s door. Even straining his ears there was no sound from the other side. He tried again with the same results. Saguru rested his hand on the door, hesitating. While certainly not up to Kuroba’s caliber, he was capable to picking a lock… There was no telling if Kuroba had booby-trapped his own front door to keep away unsanctioned visitors though.

 _I knocked on his door, but have not received an answer,_ Saguru messaged Aoko.

There was a long minute before he got a response back, and when he did get it, it was far from helpful. _Damn._

 _Have you tried his mother?_ He asked. Who else would Kuroba turn to if injured? _Or Jii?_ Saguru added, vaguely remembering the older man that Saguru had profiled as the most likely suspect to be Kid’s occasional helper.

 _Tried her, no answer there either. Jii’s been dead for seven years now,_ was Aoko’s response.

The words _Jii’s been dead_ sat heavy in front of his eyes. Who had been watching Kuroba’s back, then, if his assistant was dead?

 _Keep trying,_ Saguru sent. _I will let you know if I learn anything more on this end._

_Thanks._

Saguru slipped the phone into the chest pocket of his pajama shirt and returned to his apartment to dig out the lock picks he had stashed in one of the boxes in his closet among other things he’d never bothered to unpack. He had them more out of habit than anything else. Once a lifetime ago, Kuroba’s example had convinced him of their usefulness in a multitude of situations, not just unlawful ones. Saguru had never really broken the habit of keeping a set around. He was grateful for this now as he pulled them from a box. He carefully ignored the rest of the box’s contents. Mum had packed half of this box and now was not the time to be caught up in memories.

He grabbed his cane on the way back to Kuroba’s door for something to balance against if nothing else. His hands felt awkward and slow, nothing like Kuroba’s skilled fingers as he jimmied the tumblers into place. Surprisingly, there weren’t any secondary locks when Saguru finally managed to get the door open. By why would there be? Saguru reasoned, scorning his own surprise. As far as the world knew, Kuroba Kaito worked at a museum and lived a perfectly ordinary life. If there were secrets hidden in the apartment, they wouldn’t be made obvious.

The lights were off, a pair of guest slippers lined up on the genkan neatly beside a pair of jogging shoes. Kuroba’s, perhaps used for when he had casual outings. Kuroba’s usual shoes that he wore to work were further along the wall. That meant nothing though. Kuroba wouldn’t have worn any of his usual footwear out to a heist. Any shoes he used there likely were hidden among Kuroba’s things elsewhere.

Saguru ignored the ticking clocks and the soft glow of the digital clock near the television as he walked further in. There was no sign of Kuroba on the couch, not in the kitchen with its stack of dishes in the strainer. The bath and toilet were empty.

He hesitated at the bedrooms. There was invading Kuroba’s privacy in entering his apartment, and then there was invading privacy by touching Kuroba’s _bedroom_ , but then Kuroba had never seemed to have any hesitation in invading Saguru’s privacy in reverse. It felt like committing a wrong, like taking a step over the carefully balanced unspoken truce they had worked out. He opened the door regardless. Takumi’s room was empty. It was tidier than he’d expect from a teenager’s bedroom, but then Takumi rarely slept over.

Kuroba’s bedroom door was locked. Saguru knocked, and getting no answer, he used a card to slide between the frame and the door and got in that way.

Kuroba’s room held a bed and a small, cramped desk set between it and the dresser. The dresser was under the window and held a variety of knickknacks and photographs and objects lined up on one side. The space on the other side, under the majority of the window, was clear, likely for the ease of using it as an entrance and exit. Kuroba had managed to cram a bookcase and a second dresser into the space as well. There was an empty dove cage on top of the second dresser. Saguru took all of this in before shutting the door. He did not analyze what the choice in keepsakes might mean or where Kuroba might be hiding Kid’s tools in the room. He hadn’t been invited to see that room. If he let himself look too close, he might learn more than Kuroba was willing to let him know and he didn’t want to break the thread of trust growing between them.

 _Kuroba is not in the apartment,_ Saguru sent to Aoko, letting the details of how he knew this be filled by her imagination. Worry curled in his gut. He sent off a message to Kuroba, feeling powerless. _Please stay safe. Contact us when you are able._

On the other side of Kuroba’s door, something beeped and Saguru almost laughed. Of course. Kuroba wouldn’t take Kuroba Kaito’s phone to Kaitou Kid’s heist.

 _It seems Kuroba does not have his phone on him_ , Saguru texted to Aoko. _I can hear it in his bedroom._

 _I’m going to KILL him_ , Aoko sent back.

Nevertheless, Saguru felt a bit better knowing that it was not necessarily Kuroba being too injured to respond that was leaving the messages unanswered.

He made his way out of Kuroba’s apartment and back to his own, being sure to lock the door behind him. Saguru left his phone on the kitchen counter and started his morning routine. There was nothing he could do at the moment and information would come when it came. He still had a job to get to this morning though, so he dressed and made his breakfast and tea and packed his lunch, glancing from time to time at his unresponsive phone. When all this was over, Saguru was getting Kid’s cellphone number because he knew Kid had to have one.

There was no room to doubt that Kuroba was still alive.

Saguru’s phone was still silent when he left for class.

***

It was difficult to focus. Saguru went through the motions of teaching on automatic, his mind on the cell phone in his bag rather than the students in front of him. Takumi seemed distracted as well, likely second-hand from Aoko’s unease. Saguru didn’t bother to try and catch his focus. It would have been hypocritical anyway. He didn’t have a chance to check his phone until lunch period, leaving his third class of first years with a distracted request that they read the printout he had prepared the night before and respond to it. He wasn’t sure if he’d given clear instructions, and part of his mind noted that he’d have to grade more leniently than usual as his own distraction would be reflected on his students’ work, but he was already focusing in on the phone, pulling up the messages he had missed.

There were two from Aoko, one saying that she had gotten ahold of Kuroba Chikage, the other reporting that Kuroba was okay. The second message was terse like Aoko was reigning herself in from a rant by giving only the important facts. The last message was from Kuroba saying, _Am fine. Some issues came up getting away but nothing serious. Sorry for worrying you._

He reread the message several times trying to pull anything from it, but text was a terrible medium of communication. He wished Kuroba or Aoko would have called so he could parse more details from their tone if nothing else. Still, something in him relaxed, relief leaving him slumped in his desk chair and uncomfortably aware of how tense he had been all morning. He sent off a message thanking Aoko and Kuroba for letting him know and set his phone aside. He’d get the details from Kuroba later.

“You okay?” Takata Kate asked from her desk.

Saguru mustered up a smile. “I am fine. Merely a long morning.”

She smiled back friendly and sympathetic. “I know the feeling.”

He kept a smile on his face as she launched into a story about how her son had woken in the night and how her classes had been difficult this morning. It was almost nice to hear about the normal sort of problems his coworkers and friends had had over the years, familiar problems with familiar results, not like Kid or secrets though Saguru was more than familiar with that sort of problem too. He could always rely on commiseration and the normality was soothing.

Saguru let Takata keep him distracted for the rest of the lunch break and ground him to the familiar flow of his job.

***

Saguru knocked on Kuroba’s door when he returned to the apartment complex. Unlike this morning, Kuroba opened it after a few moments. They said nothing, Kuroba standing in the doorway and letting Saguru look him over without protest.

Kuroba looked tired, to be expected after a heist night. There was nothing in his stance that gave away a specific injury and no bulk of bandages underneath his clothing. No slip of a sleeve to show injured arms like last time, but Saguru knew that something had to be wrong. He narrowed his eyes. “Your right leg or your ribs?” he asked.

“…A few bruises on my right side and a minor sprain to my ankle,” Kuroba said.

Saguru nodded slowly. “Sniper?”

“I wear a bulletproof vest and am pretty good at dodging.”

“No doubt through frequent practice,” Saguru said bitterly. He was willing to bet that Kid’s uniform had a long tear in the chest where the bullet hand glanced off the vest. Unless the bruises were a result of Kuroba dodging.

“Satisfied I’m in one piece yet?” Kuroba joked. His tone fell a bit flat, uncomfortable just like the last time Saguru had called him out on his injuries.

“I broke into your apartment,” Saguru said because he wasn’t sure what would satisfy him of Kuroba’s safety.

“Why Hakuba, breaking and entering?” Kuroba put a hand over his heart. “I’m scandalized. And surprised you know how to pick a lock.”

“A useful skill,” Saguru said. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy.”

Kuroba shrugged like it wasn’t a concern, but Saguru knew better.

“I didn’t touch anything.”

Kuroba shrugged again. “We can call it even for all the times I’ve picked your locks.”

Saguru snorted. “Of course. Because I pick a lock once and that balances against the dozens of times you do.”

Kuroba smiled, the atmosphere between them shifting away from the stiff discomfort back toward their usual dynamic. “But you’re on the side of the law and all that’s good; your picking a lock holds more weight!”

Saguru shook his head, allowing himself a smile. If it was fonder than he intended, well, that couldn’t be helped. “I am glad you’re in one piece, Kuroba.”

Kuroba shrugged, surprisingly not taking the opportunity to pull up his usual masks or to tease Saguru about his concern. “I’m glad too,” he said. It must have been a closer call than the injuries hinted. For a flash of a moment, he could see Aoko’s perspective in all this clearly; at least Kid couldn’t put himself in the spotlight as a target if he was caught up in a box. But Saguru knew that catching Kid would be a death sentence in its own right by this point. There would be nowhere for Kid to run and nowhere to dodge if he was locked up.

“You need to leave a way to contact you,” Saguru said, thinking of Aoko. “I understand not giving a way for Aoko to get in touch with Kid. That would be too dangerous if anything ever did happen, possibly incriminating her. But leaving everyone in a state of panic isn’t the answer either.”

With a grimace, Kuroba scrubbed the back of his head. “My fault. I meant to call… Kaa-san has my number, but she didn’t have her phone on her.” He gave Saguru a look. “Let me guess, you want to be another contact.”

“Only if you would want me to be one,” Saguru said.

“No ulterior motives behind this?” Kuroba asked, leaning against his doorframe.

“Only so far as assuaging my own worry.” With a wry smile he added, “Being able to potentially calm down Aoko would help as well. And I wouldn’t have to break in to your apartment again.”

“Hmm, you make compelling points.” Kuroba’s eyes sparked with humor but there was something deeper in his gaze, assessing. “Fine. I’ll send you the number later.” Kuroba turned back to his apartment. “Takumi’s coming over for dinner once practice lets out. Care to join us?”

Saguru reigned in his kneejerk refusal. He would be intruding on family time, but Kuroba wasn’t someone who would offer if he didn’t want Saguru to be there. “I would love to,” he said.

“Great!” Kuroba grinned, one of his rare, truly happy smiles. “If you’re comfortable with knives, you can help me chop vegetables for the stir fry.”

“I think I can handle that.”

Kuroba’s apartment door clicked shut behind them.

 

**OMAKE**

“So Sensei,” Momoi Shiemi said, catching Saguru after a literature club meeting, “you and Kuroba-jisan.”

Saguru stopped packing up his notes and books. “Pardon?” He could have sworn she’d left with Takumi and the others.

Momoi grinned and leaned against the table, a knowing glint in her eyes that made him distinctly uncomfortable. It reminded him of a cat that had made a successful kill, parading its prey around triumphantly.  Saguru took a step back in spite of himself. “You have to be something since he keeps bringing you up when we talk. Kind of going pretty fast there, but I’m not going to judge.”

Saguru frowned. Was she actually insinuating that he and Kuroba were…?

“I’m a little curious about why you because he hasn’t been with anyone in ages. Kuroba-jisan still loves Aoko-basan too much, you know.” Momoi tipped her hear to the side, her heavy braids tapping her cheeks. “But. He’s looked happier lately, and that leads back to you.”

Well then. Saguru coughed. “Momoi-san, I am not sure what exactly gave you the impression that Kuroba is…involved… with me, but I assure you that it’s mistaken.”

“Mm hmm.” She didn’t look convinced at all.

“Truly.” His cheeks were warm. For goodness sake, this wasn’t something that should even come up with a student. “Kuroba is merely a friend.”

“You know, Sensei, they’re pretty good here about non-conventional relationships.” She rocked back on her feet, serious for a moment. “It’s not the kind of thing that would get you fired. Well, so long as you’re not shouting it to the rooftops or anything.”

“That’s not—” That hadn’t even crossed his mind; he’d been used to acceptance in London so it had been a while since he actually had to worry about Japan’s stance on homosexuality. And now some small portion of him was a bit worried about if his orientation became public knowledge. He took a slow breath, composed himself. “Momoi-san, if I was in a relationship—and I am not—it frankly would not be anyone’s business what my significant other’s gender was.”

“Good,” Momoi said. “It’s not something to apologize about.”

Why did it feel like he was being judged and found worthy of something? It seemed Momoi had placed herself as gatekeeper of sorts to Kuroba’s relationships the way she was talking. And all of this was ridiculous because he wasn’t dating Kuroba. Saguru pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re not going to believe me when I say that we are not involved, are you?”

“I’m calling it as I see it,” Momoi said. “Point one, you don’t use honorifics.”

“That is because we rarely ever did and at one point it was to aggravate each other.”

“Point two,” Momoi said, talking over Saguru, “you talk more with Kuroba-jisan than a lot of his friends. He’s mentioned you more since you got back than any other person including coworkers.”

“We live next to each other,” Saguru said, ignoring the warm, conflicted feeling he had at hearing that Kuroba mentioned him.

“Point three,” Momoi said, grinning again now, “Takumi accepts you.”

“How is that a point?” Saguru protested. “He hated me a month ago.”

She shrugged. “Hate’s a strong word. I don’t think he’s actually able to _hate_ anyone. But no, you’ve gotten the child seal of approval now, which Kuroba-jisan’d need. Actually I think you’re the only person he’s introduced Takumi to.”

“Is it introducing when I’m Takumi-kun’s homeroom teacher?” Saguru asked dryly.

“Aaand, point the fourth,” Momoi said, cutting him off with a triumphantly pointed finger, “you’ve seen the inside of his apartment.”

He didn’t even want to know how she knew that. “I again point out that we’re neighbors.”

“Kuroba-jisan doesn’t let people in his home,” Momoi said patiently. “I’ve been there four times, and I’ve known Takumi since before Kuroba-jisan moved there. Chikage-obaasan, and Aoko-basan visit regularly. Takumi lives there half the time, but Kuroba-jisan doesn’t invite friends or coworkers over.”

“And that’s why you’ve concluded we’re dating.”

“Pretty much.” She smiled, sharp like she was waiting for another protest to cut down.

Saguru sighed. “Your points aside, we really aren’t dating. In fact I am fairly certain Kuroba is entirely uninterested in men.”

“Have you seen Kuroba-jisan?” Momoi said.

“I’m hardly going to take certain flamboyant actions as indicative of sexuality.” He wouldn’t put stereotypes onto people like that. He’d had it done toward him far too many times and seen enough of that for a lifetime. Besides, Kuroba’s flirting even when they were young rarely meant anything. And even then it was rare that it extended toward men. There’d never been any indication that Kuroba was attracted to anyone outside of Aoko in all the time Saguru had known him, including now.

“I notice you said _Kuroba-jisan_ wasn’t interested, but nothing about you,” Momoi said with a smirk.

And he had had enough of this conversation. “Momoi-san, this is not an appropriate conversation to be having with your teacher.”

“Technically you’re not my teacher, you’re the club’s academic advisor and the first year English teacher, not the second year.”

“The fact remains, I’m a member of the faculty and you’re a student.”

Momoi rolled her eyes. “Do you always retreat into rules when you want to avoid talking about something?”

Saguru’s lips pressed into a tight line. “Not that it is in any way your business, but yes, I am attracted to men. That fact does not mean that anything is occurring with Kuroba, nor does it mean that it is appropriate for me to discuss my love life or lack of with a student. Please stop insinuating otherwise.”

And remarkably, Momoi backed off, her body relaxing and stance shifting to carefully non-confrontational. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She was the type to push and pry, to poke until a situation either fell in her favor or she got something out of it. Saguru wasn’t sure if she’d gotten whatever she had been looking for or if she realized a line had been crossed and had decided to respect it.

“Okay,” she said again. “I won’t bring it up again.” Her smile went a little more genuine, “But you know, if you were with Kuroba-jisan, that’d be fine.”

“I’m not,” Saguru said feeling like a broken record.

“Yes, you said.” She waved a hand. “Anyway, all that aside, you’re not bad as our advisor. You’re not Yumi-sensei, but you’ll do.”

“Thank you?” Saguru said, bemused.

“Mm. Just keep being tolerable,” she said. Momoi waved like she wasn’t the one to initiate the conversation, like it was just any other day for the literature club, and left Saguru to finish picking up his papers.

He’d take Kuroba’s brand of head games over hers, he decided. He wasn’t sure what she thought she’d get out of insinuating Kuroba and Saguru were dating, or how any part of the conversation had led back around to him as an advisor, but okay. He could accept that it had happened.

…He’d just revealed his sexuality to a student, hadn’t he? Saguru sighed. Well. Out of the students it could have happened with, at least Momoi was one who seemed to hoard tidbits of information rather than sharing them around.

Still, he had to wonder where she’d gotten the impression that he was dating Kuroba. For a moment he tried to picture dating Kuroba. On the one hand, the very concept felt foreign as it was _Kuroba_. On the other… Saguru waved the thoughts away. It was hardly the sort of thoughts he should be having about a friend. And that was all Kuroba was. A friend. And that was too valuable to muddle with anything else.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiemi is one of those people who ships real life people with other people. Only if she grows to like them, but this can be potentially awkward.
> 
> also, sorry about Jii, but you guys were probably expecting that to be the case, right?


	13. Chapter 13

For once Saguru was caught up on all his work. There were no tests to grade, all assignments were returned, his lesson plans were finalized for the next week and a half, and he’d already read through the novel for the literature club. He hadn’t thought it would be possible to really and truly have nothing to do, not even any chores since he kept things neat out of habit. He was at a bit of a loss.

Mum would tell him to go do something. Make plans. Meet a friend. Saguru had hardly been sociable since returning to Japan, certainly not enough to be close enough to anyone to make last minute plans even if he’d been inclined to do so. With Kuroba, maybe, if he thought it would be welcome. Honestly, Kuroba was more likely to be the one making a spontaneous plan. But Kuroba was working his late night at the museum.

There was the possibility of calling Mum, but no, she had mentioned a day out with Otou-san visiting some old friends.

Saguru stared blankly at his wall. What did one do when they had free time and weren’t currently crushed under the weight of depression?

Well, Mum complained that he had stopped taking initiative. She was right, irritatingly enough. A year ago, finding himself with nothing to do wouldn’t have felt like a problem. A brochure sat on Saguru’s desk, left over by Kuroba during a chat over tea. It had the current museum exhibit printed on it along with the hours. He picked it up on impulse, and yes, there was still several hours until closing.

He shook his head, an idea taking root. He had to admit he was curious about Kuroba’s work environment. And he hadn’t been to that particular museum in years. He might as well visit. How was that for initiative?

***

The museum was a good deal further away from Saguru’s apartment building than the school, though not, Saguru noted, any further than it would be from Kuroba’s childhood home or from Aoko’s house. This wouldn’t have been too much of a problem except for the fact that after a full day of teaching, Saguru had run through most of his leg’s endurance. He took the last stretch up to the building slowly, resting at one of the benches outside.

There were indications of Kid’s effects visible even from the front bench; numerous cameras covered a wide number of angles, thin wires along the doorframes and running along edges of the glass, barely visible, for the alarms, and the windows had the slight variance of transparency that came from reinforcement. It wouldn’t surprise him if at least the entry way was bulletproof. Saguru could only imagine how much these renovations had cost over the years. Granted, Kid’s presence acted as a draw more than a deterrent. Despite the costly changes, the museum was probably doing better than it had been before Kid had made a habit of stealing from it.

Rested, Saguru headed in the building and paid the entry fee. “I don’t suppose,” he asked the woman working at the desk, “you would know if Kuroba Kaito is available today? He works as a conservator.”

“Kuroba-san?” The woman glanced at something outside of Saguru’s sight. “I can check, if you wouldn’t mind giving a name?”

“Hakuba Saguru,” Saguru said. “A friend. He mentioned the new ceramics exhibit a week or so ago, and I finally found the time to stop by to see it.”

She gave him a polite smile and turned away to use an office phone. Saguru let his attention wander about the lobby as she dialed. There was a gift shop across from the desk. He smiled, amused to see a small section of the shop dedicated to Kid merchandise with a sign proclaiming it to be the only merchandise Kid approved. Since any money it brought in would go straight to caring for the museum and its contents, it wouldn’t surprise him if Kid really had approved it. He made a mental note to stop in and get a closer look. Saguru wondered what sort of expression Kuroba would make if he found a Kid caricature shaped charm hanging from Saguru’s window.

He was pulled from his contemplation by Kuroba’s voice saying, “You could have called my cell phone.”

“I could have,” Saguru conceded, “but it was more of a surprise this way.”

Kuroba snorted, a relaxed smile on his face. “My neighbor,” Kuroba said for the benefit of the receptionist. She smiled now that Kuroba proved that he clearly both knew and was friendly with Saguru. Kuroba had his sleeves rolled up, no sign of the cuts from over a month ago on his forearms, but plenty of smudges from dust and dirt. “Good timing, I needed a break. I’ve been bent over the same bit of pottery for hours.” His back cracked audibly as he stretched.

“That can’t be healthy.”

Kuroba shrugged. “When you’re focused, you’re focused, it’s when you come out of it that it’s regretful.” He sent Saguru a sidelong grin. “Besides, like you’re one to talk.”

“I might be a workaholic, but I do comprehend the benefit of taking regular breaks.”

He got a laugh in response, which he’d hoped for. “C’mon,” Kuroba said. “I’ll show you around.”

They headed off down a staff hallway, cheerfully ignoring the sign asking unauthorized individuals to keep out.

“Felt an itch to appreciate the arts?” Kuroba asked. He nodded in passing to a security staff member. The man didn’t give Saguru a second glance.

“Something like that.”

“Oh, so you just wanted to snoop on my work life,” Kuroba teased.

“I’ll admit to curiosity.”

“Good to see your need to dig into every little detail isn’t completely dead. It just wouldn’t be the same if you weren’t poking your nose into my life like some kind of stalker,” Kuroba quipped.

Saguru rolled his eyes. “If either of us qualified as a stalker, it would not be me.”

“High school says otherwise,” Kuroba said, but he was still smiling, clearly enjoying the back and forth.

Kuroba’s good mood was infectious. Saguru found himself smiling as Kuroba opened a set of doors, beckoning him in with a flourish.

“And this is where the magic happens. By magic, I mean hours of painstaking, tedious work to make things pretty and long lasting for the public.”

Inside was a large room with desks along the walls and tables and work stations set up around the room. On the tables were pieces being restored, presumably ones that didn’t require specific climate controls because there were other smaller rooms behind closed doors with other projects. A man was using one of them, bent over what appeared to be some sort of book.

Saguru made out Kuroba’s station by the shards of pottery sitting on it. The pot in question was partially pieced together, one shard at a time.

“Technically you’re not supposed to be back here,” Kuroba said, “but no one really cares so long as you’re not touching anything.”

“And this one’s not a kid,” a woman said from one of the desks. She had short hair tied back messily and there was what appeared to be a domestic cat skull being used as a paperweight next to her elbow. “A friend?” she asked.

“And neighbor,” Kuroba said. “Hakuba, this is Tomoeda Miyuri. Miyu-san, Hakuba Saguru. Miyu-san deals with organics.” He nodded at a workstation with an ivory and wood piece. “If it’s dead, she deals with it.”

“You make it sound like I’m dealing in corpses, not leather, wood and bone,” Tomoeda said.

“You’re the one responsible for the couple of taxidermy things around here. And you collect bones for a hobby. If anything, I’m putting it nicely.”

She laughed, leaving her papers sit for the moment. “Better bones than dealing with your pottery puzzles.”

“To each their own,” Kuroba said. “You two could probably go on about decomposition rates,” he said aside to Saguru.

“Oh, dead things are your hobby too?” Tomoeda asked.

Saguru could almost laugh at that. Someone in forensics probably would have laughed at that sort of question. “Not as such, no. I used to be a detective. Forensic knowledge was valuable back then, though I suppose I enjoyed the chemistry end of things more than interaction with the site itself.”

“Ooh, you and I need to have a talk sometime.” Tomoeda grinned. “Off the clock though. I could probably fill half the work day talking about stages of decay.”

“Another time then,” Saguru said. It had been a while since he’d had a discussion on the subject and he wouldn’t mind a chance to do so. She smiled and returned to her work as they passed her. On Tomoeda’s desk was a photograph of a child holding what looked like one of Kuroba’s trained doves. “The coworker who you performed at a birthday party for?” Saguru asked quietly.

Kuroba pulled out a chair from his desk, before pulling a stool around from his work table for him to sit on. “You remember that? Yeah. I’ve done birthday parties for a couple people, but I’ve done shows for Miyu-san a couple times.”

Saguru took the chair while Kuroba took the stool. Saguru found himself looking for signs of discomfort as Kuroba wove one leg into the legs of the stool, perching casually. His good leg, not his bad ankle, but there was no flicker of pain on Kuroba’s face in his slouch.

“Stop,” Kuroba said. “Is that why you’re here? To check up on me?”

“Not at all. I had free time and wanted to see the ceramics exhibit.” Checking on Kuroba’s health was a secondary benefit of it all, not that Saguru expected Kuroba to be obvious if he was hurting. It was almost subconscious to look for signs of strain.

“That better be it. I’m not constantly nagging you so don’t even start with me.” Kuroba gave Saguru’s bad knee a pointed look. Saguru realized he’d been rubbing it to chase away the ache.

“I’ll keep worries of your health to myself unless it looks like you’re pushing too far.”

“Good. I’ll do the same.” Kuroba’s good humor was back as if it hadn’t left at all. He waved at his work space. “So. What do you think?”

The clutter on the desk was organized clutter, not true clutter at all. There were photographs and sketches, predicted concepts of finished pieces and careful detailing of patterns paper-clipped together. Saguru recognized a book he had seen on Kuroba’s bookshelf before. Where the desk was full of papers and books, the work table was clear of everything but the essentials needed for the task. “It’s very you,” Saguru said.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” Kuroba said drily. “Anyway, lately I’ve been working in ceramics. I specialized more in metal and stone work,” which Saguru found unsurprising considering Kuroba dealt with gemstones almost exclusively in his night life, “but I helped Kurata-san a few times a couple years back with ceramics and he ended up teaching me a lot before he retired. What he didn’t, I’ve researched, so I ended up taking on a lot of the projects he used to do since then.”

“You must have learned a lot if you had such a large hand in the new exhibit.”

“I did.” Kuroba smiled. “So, have you seen it yet?”

“Not yet. That’s next on the agenda.”

“You’ll have to tell me what you think.” Kuroba stretched and hopped to his feet—Saguru couldn’t tell if it was a pointed show of his health or not by this point. “I’d walk you around but I’ve pretty much used up my break time.”

“Thank you for spending it with me then,” Saguru said, standing as well.

“I told you I needed the break.” Kuroba grinned as he walked them back toward the door and the public museum space beyond. “Besides, it’s kind of nice. Been a while since I got to take anyone back here.”

Tomoeda waved as they passed and Saguru waved back. Perhaps he would get a chance someday to actually have that conversation on decomposition another day. The possibility was something to look forward to, surprisingly since he hadn’t had much social interaction lately he’d wanted to have. Yet another moment of the positive effects Kuroba was having on his life he supposed.

Kuroba kept a light bounce in his step the whole walk back to the public sector of the museum, but when Saguru went to leave, Kuroba stopped him with a touch to his arm.

“Hey. Thanks for visiting.” His smile was still the same cheerful one he’d had in front of Tomoeda, but there was deeper weight in his voice. Understanding that coming, doing something besides his pattern at all, had been out of Saguru’s comfort zone.

“I hope I’ll have the chance to visit again. Perhaps with more warning next time.”

“I’d like that.”

Kuroba’s hand fell away.

It was a successful trip already just for confirming that Kuroba was healing up and seeing a glimpse of what Kuroba’s life was like now. It wasn’t the sort of environment Saguru would have expected Kuroba to work in. There was no audience and Kuroba had always liked to be the center of a crowd. At the same time, the level of detail and focus was appropriate, specialized knowledge being Kuroba’s forte along with his steady hands.

Saguru wandered into the special exhibit hall. How many of the pieces in it had Kuroba worked on? He went from ceramic piece to ceramic piece, picturing Kuroba painstakingly cleaning and repairing cracks and restoring them to their former elegance.

He was so caught up in the thought that he almost ran into someone lingering over an urn. “Excuse me,” he said.

“Saguru-san?” said the man. Saguru blinked and tried to place the face. The glasses weren’t familiar, but the high cheekbones and narrow face…

“Nakahara… Hiroto, was it?” The man didn’t look much like he had back at the bar when he’d given Saguru his number. Taking away the suit and adding glasses left an entirely different impression than the out of place businessman Saguru had first met.

Nakahara smiled. “Wow, what are the chances of running into you here? Do you come here often? I haven’t seen you here before.”

“I haven’t been here in years. A friend did restoration work on this exhibit thought, so I wanted to see it.”

“Really? That’s pretty cool.” Nakahara looked around the room and back. “I wonder which was the most interesting to work on.” His eyes glanced down to Saguru’s cane and there was a flicker of surprise, there and gone, on his face. Apparently he hadn’t noticed it their first meeting.

And that, Saguru thought, would probably be the end of whatever attraction Nakahara had toward him. It wouldn’t be the first time. But the small talk continued as they worked their way through the exhibit and Nakahara didn’t seem to look at Saguru’s cane again, and it wasn’t in the uncomfortable avoidant way people sometimes had either. More like it had been noted, accepted and dismissed in short order.

They stopped in front of a pot that had a lattice of bronze work caging it. It was elegant and delicate to look at, but all Saguru could see was the hours of work that had to have gone into getting dust and dirt out of each and every bronze swirl and where the bronze met glazed porcelain.

“You don’t see many mixed mediums like that,” Nakahara said. He’d pointed out details like gold filigree and silver inlays on other pieces, but this was the only one with bronze worked around and in it. “It looks really nice. Your friend must have worked really hard on it.”

Saguru nodded. What would Kuroba have said about it if he’d had the time to show him the gallery? It was a pity he hadn’t. Saguru turned to the next piece; they were almost at the end.

Nakahara hesitated, not moving on from the pot they were looking at. Saguru stopped, waiting. “You know, I didn’t actually expect to ever run into you again,” Nakahara said. “Tokyo is huge.”

“Neither did I,” Saguru said. He waited a bit longer, but whatever Nakahara was mulling over, he didn’t say it. “Are you regretting giving me your business card?” Saguru asked.

“What?” Nakahara blinked at him. “No, no, I meant it when I gave you my card and still do. It’s just…you never called so it’s a little awkward I guess. I’ve never had to see anyone after they’ve rejected me before. I’m not really sure how to act.”

“Nakahara-san…” Saguru didn’t know how to act either, more from being out of practice socializing with new people more than anything though.

“No, no, it’s fine.” Nakahara waved a hand. “I probably shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“That’s not it.” Saguru shook his head.

“Oh, wait, is this the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech?”

Saguru almost laughed, lips quirking up in a smile while Nakahara looked far too serious. “Well, it is in a way I suppose. It isn’t you; I’m not interested in dating anyone at the moment. I’m not ready yet.”

“Oh.” Nakahara looked away before looking back and squaring his shoulders. “Do you think you ever will be?”

“Are you attempting to ask me out again?” It was flattering, but… “I don’t know. I suppose I’ll know when I’m ready.” But would he? A corner of his mind that sounded a lot like Mum pointed out that it had taken an intervention to convince him he needed to leave London. She’d been right even though he hadn’t been sure if he was ready to leave at the time. Saguru had reached a point in his life where he couldn’t always trust his judgment or perception of himself.

“If you’re not ready, you’re not ready,” Nakahara was saying, pulling Saguru out of his thoughts, “but if you’re interested, I’d like to get to know you better even if it’s just as friends. Unless you’d rather not?”

Nakahara was someone unrelated to work and unrelated to Saguru’s past in any way. He’d come to Japan looking for a life that wouldn’t remind him of Mel so… Friendship would be alright. Safer. Saguru wondered when he’d started taking the safer, less troubling paths in life. Had it started when he gave up after Mel’s death? Or had it started before then, sometime when he was content and hadn’t had to charge toward his dreams anymore because he’d already reached as much as he wanted to?

“As friends,” he heard himself say distantly.

At one point in his life, living in Japan hadn’t been an escape, but a challenge. Not just because of Kid, but because it had put him outside his comfort zone in a country that, because of his mixed heritage, would never fully accept him. A much younger Saguru had enjoyed testing his comfort levels and pushing past them. A less young Saguru had gone into teaching, not with confidence as he would have tackling a research or police related job, but with the uncertainty of whether he’d be good in it alongside a determination to do his best for the next generation.

So far, how had Saguru pushed himself here? Befriending Kuroba? A single trip out with coworkers? He wasn’t sure when or if he’d be ready to date again, but he was sure he’d never know unless he tried. It wasn’t strange to go on dates just to test compatibility. And if Nakahara was intent on exploring his newly realized sexuality, Saguru could test his comfort levels. It didn’t have to go any deeper or further than Saguru wanted to, and Nakahara had already offered friendship as well.

He gave Nakahara a once over, this time looking not with subconscious detective habits, but as a potential suitor. Nakahara was on the plain side, but he had a nice smile, kept in good shape considering he worked in an office, and had surprisingly elegant, long fingered hands. At first glance he seemed timid, but that was contradicted by how he continually attempted to make the first move. Perhaps not timidity so much as difficulty adjusting to a new format of interaction. The directness of admitting what interested him and pursuing it could be attractive as well. Saguru felt a spark of interest. It was almost a relief to know he could still feel that sort of thing if he let himself try to.

“Actually, perhaps I would like to go on a date.”

“Eh?” Nakahara looked confused and concerned. “Are you sure? I meant it. I really just want to get to know you better regardless of—”

“I’m not sure,” Saguru admitted, “but I realized that I won’t know until I try.”

“Oh, um.” A blush rose on Nakahara’s face. “Then…something informal. Not…not quite a date, but not…not a date either? Semi-date? Quasi date? I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“A date,” Saguru said more firmly. One part of him was already regretting agreeing to this, but the other part, a part Saguru hadn’t been in touch with much lately, was relishing the adrenaline from making a spur of the moment decision. It seemed today was full of spontaneity.

“A date then.” Nakahara fished his cell phone out of his pocket. “Exchange numbers?” he asked hopefully.

Saguru gave his number and a few moments later his cell phone buzzed with an incoming text. Nakahara’s name was accompanied by a cheerful smiling emoticon. He extracted the number and saved it.

“Thanks!” Nakahara said. “Should I call you or you call me or—ah, wait, I don’t even know what sort of schedule you keep or what you do!”

“I’m a high school teacher,” Saguru said, mildly amused. “I’m free most evenings and nights provided I have enough warning in advance to get my work out of the way.”

“I’ll call you.” Nakahara leaned forward then back.

Saguru didn’t know what to add to that either. They looked at each other for a moment before Nakahara laughed in a nervous rush.

“Okay. Okay, thank you.” He glanced at his cell phone. “I…I should probably get going now; didn’t plan to spend quite so long at the museum and I’m actually working this night for overseas conference calls… Um. But I’m glad I got to talk to you and I’ll call you.”

“Same,” Saguru said. There was another hesitant pause where Nakahara looked torn between possibly reaching out and just leaving before things became more awkward, but in the end he waved and sent a smile over his shoulder.

Saguru watched him go before finishing up the last of the exhibit, carefully not thinking about what had just happened. He knew he’d think about it enough later when he was trying to sleep anyway.

On the way out, he ducked into the gift shop to look at the Kid memorabilia. After looking at posters and postcards and mugs and pillows and plushies, Saguru picked a keychain of Kid’s signature. He’d see how long it took Kuroba to notice it.

He almost made it back to the apartment before he couldn’t ignore what had happened anymore. Saguru spent the rest of the walk back wondering if agreeing to a date was really the end of the world it felt like.

***

Afternoon sunlight filtered in through the teacher’s room window, but Saguru barely noticed it, his pen tapping against papers that he was nominally grading. Nominally, because he hadn’t managed to get through even a quarter of the stack in front of him before he was distracted again.

The distraction came in the form of a text message, read and replied to on his cell phone. Said phone was in his pocket as it should be, but he had had the urge to pull it out over a dozen times in the last few days to assure himself that yes, he truly had agreed to go on a date this Saturday evening. He turned his attention back to the assignment he was grading and found he’d left smudges of ink in the top corner. Drat. Perhaps he could cover it up when he wrote out the final score…?

He jumped, almost leaving a lot more than a few tap marks on the paper, when a hand touched his shoulder. “Ah. Yes?” There was no disguising the flinch. Takata—of course it was her—looked torn between humor and concern.

“You okay? I said your name three times.”

“I’m fine. Merely…distracted.”

“I can tell. Usually you’re working away.” She offered him a smile. “I was just asking how you feel working here is going so far since we’re almost halfway through this semester.”

“It’s been fine,” Saguru said. “It was a bit rough at the start, but everything has settled in and classes are going smoothly and students are behaving. I haven’t had to give out extra work or call a parent in almost two weeks.”

“That’s good.”

Saguru nodded. It was good that things had settled down into a routine. Now more learning was actually happening in class times.

“So, if things are going well, what has you all head in the clouds?” Takata asked. “If there’s something you’re having trouble with I’ll help if I’m able.”

“Thank you,” Saguru said, “but it’s not that sort of distracted.”

“If you say so,” she said, backing off. “That’s a standing offer though!” She tossed a smile over her shoulder and returned back to her desk.

“Ah, same to you...” Right. He sighed. It was a standing offer with her, and apparently with Kuroba now if the looks he’d gotten the last two days meant anything. He did appreciate it, just… If he talked about it, he’d probably talk about a lot more than he intended to and he did not want to go down that route right now with anyone, especially not a coworker.

At least Takata and Kuroba respected him desire not to go into it.

Then there was Mum, who called five times in three days after Saguru’s weekend phone call. He’d thought he had done a good job pretending that everything was normal. Mum still had ears of a bat and a detective-like sixth sense when it came to Saguru not telling the whole story. She’d get it out of him eventually, but Saguru was holding out until after the upcoming date was over.

Two days. She could wait two days. And Saguru would live through the next two days no matter what his nerves were telling him. He rubbed his knee absently. The amount of papers to grade wasn’t getting any smaller.

***

 _“Saguru, if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m coming over and packing you up in the car and you’re staying with us for a few days,”_ Mum said over the phone.

“I promise it isn’t anything bad, Mum, I just don’t feel like talking about it at the moment.” Saguru stabbed the vegetables he was cutting up a bit harder than necessary. Really, everyone else stressing about his stress was only making him stress more.

_“If you’re having another depressive episode—”_

“Did I not just state that it is not anything bad?” And now he felt guilty as well as stressed. Wonderful. Vegetables clanged into the bottom of a pot, sizzling among onions and garlic. “Give me a few days and I promise I’ll talk with you about it.”

“ _If you kept your word about talking, I wouldn’t have to pester you like this at all, Saguru,”_ Mum sighed.

“Can you just trust me that this isn’t something to worry about?”

“ _Fine_.” Mum clicked her tongue, and Saguru started cubing chicken thighs to add to the mix. _“You know I don’t like to be a nag._ ”

“I’m aware.” Being watched like a hawk was a recent thing. He didn’t blame her for it. That didn’t make it any less irritating. “Can we talk about something other than my life for once perhaps?”

That got him another sigh and a short summary of her and his father’s week, and what they planned to do with their weekend, which led to prodding about what Saguru was going to do with _his_ weekend, which made him want to toss his phone. Mum wasn’t being subtle.

Saguru finished his phone call to find his dinner starting to burn. He swore.

“Fighting with your mother, Hakuba? For shame.”

Kuroba Kaito was sitting in his windowsill casual as you please. Saguru almost— _almost_ —threw the knife at him as he flinched.

“Jesus Christ, Kuroba.”

“You look like you’re having a bad day.”

“Can we just—not now? Please?” Saguru removed his dinner from the burner and set down the knife before there were any unfortunate mishaps. “And from my window? Really?” It was still daylight out. And Kuroba almost always used the door if Saguru was in his apartment.

“You didn’t hear me knock.”

“You didn’t pick the lock?”

Kuroba shrugged. “Okay, and I felt like using a window today.” He held up a bag of something that had a bakery label and wiggled it. “Peace offering?”

Saguru glanced at his half charred dinner. It wasn’t a complete wash since he was making a stew, but…. He dumped in the chicken broth and stirred before setting it back on the burner. It could cook down as it was, and any burnt bits on the bottom could stay there until he had to pry them off the bottom of the pan when he washed it.

“Please,” Saguru said, like a surrender.

Kuroba made himself at home, swinging out of the window to pull two plates from Saguru’s cupboard. He was in sock feet, probably having crossed the distance between their windows shoeless. Saguru let himself be nudged to the side so Kuroba could fill glasses of water, and be led to take a seat at his table.

“I picked these up because I was having one of those days where I needed it, but it kind of sounded like you need it too,” Kuroba said, pulling out two flaky croissants. “And I’m not going to pry because that would only make it worse, right?”

“Thank you.”

Kuroba hummed. He nudged Saguru with an elbow when he only stared at his croissant on a plate. “It has chocolate. Chocolate makes everything better.”

Saguru surprised himself with a laugh. “You would be one of those people.”

“Eat.” To make a point, he tore off a chunk of pastry and bit into it. “It’s good.”

It was good. Saguru nibbled at a corner. “You said you are having a bad day as well?”

“Mmrg.” Kuroba swallowed his bite. “Yeah. Let’s see… Had a setback on one of the projects at work, got into a fight with Aoko because I showed up at her house to return something Takumi forgot here, got yelled at by her dad who happened to be visiting because Aoko was yelling at me, and found out my mom’s planning a trip overseas again even though she knows I have another heist coming up and might need her help.” Kuroba sighed. “Okay, so Kaa-san having a trip isn’t really that big of a deal, but it still makes things more complicated and means I have to have twice the contingency plans.”

Saguru took that in. The knowledge that Kuroba Chikage was involved in Kuroba’s Kid activities was filed away to be examined at a later date. “Do you argue with Aoko every time you happen to visit her home instead of her coming here?”

“Honestly, we argue if we’re face to face more than a few minutes most of the time. But she doesn’t like me showing up at her home because it’s the place we bought together.”

“Too many memories?” Saguru asked softly.

“I guess.” Kuroba shrugged and tore off more croissant. “It is how it is though, and I kind of knew it would happen when I took Takumi’s stuff back, but I wasn’t expecting Nakamori and that was awkward. I don’t think he’s ever going to forgive me.” Kuroba shrugged again. “But enough depressing stuff. We have chocolate, so life isn’t all bad.”

He wasn’t playing with his hands or whatever objects were in reach, so Saguru knew that however optimistic his words were, he wasn’t really feeling them. Still, trying was the first step to making things better, and Saguru was already feeling a bit better for the distraction. “You’re right,” Saguru said. The next bite of croissant had bitter sweet chocolate melting across his tongue, just bitter enough to fit his preferences. “Thank you for sharing it.”

“Well I could have hoarded it,” Kuroba said with a shadow of his usual grin, “but sometimes things are better shared.”

***

Saguru was dressed like he would any other day of the week in a button down and slacks. He’d been told to dress casually for his date, and for him, this was about as casual as he got when going out in public. They were meeting up at a park at seven, so naturally Saguru found himself there at six forty-five on the dot. Nakahara Hiroto wasn’t there yet, but Saguru had the dozen text messages that he’d received in the last day and a half to scroll through and analyze as he waited. Not that he thought he’d gain much from a blurry picture of a large dog, three comments about Nakahara’s workload, and a handful of random musings than he’d already gathered. Nakahara seemed to be a bit scattered in his attention and overly prone to emoticons and exclamation points. He liked animals and loathed early mornings. He was a coffee addict, was a people watcher, and an only child. He seemed to get attached to people too quickly if the easy friendliness of his texts were anything to go by.

Saguru looked up at six fifty-two to see Nakahara waving as he approached Saguru’s park bench. He had glasses again, a nice t-shirt, and long shorts that looked comfortable in the seasonal heat and humidity. He smiled like seeing Saguru waiting for him was like the sun coming out from the clouds to brighten his day.

Saguru’s palms sweated as he put his phone away, but the smile calmed that nervous part of him that had been second guessing since the moment he’d decided a date wasn’t going to kill him.

“You’re here,” Nakahara said, nervous and pleased.

“I’m here.”

All the nerves from the last week swirled through him, then drained out as Nakahara started laughing. Saguru found himself laughing too.

“You look about as nervous as I am,” Nakahara said after a moment, gaining control again. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a first date.” Try over a decade.

“Date, friend-date, it’s only as much as you’re comfortable with.” Nakahara smiled and offered a hand. Saguru took it. Nakahara had cool hands, but the touch was a reminder of how little he had touched anyone lately. There was Mum, Otou-san, and Kuroba, Kuroba only fleetingly at that. It was a good sort of connection.

“Date,” Saguru said because he’d decided it would be one.

Nakahara’s smile widened. “Date. Let’s get dinner.” He kept hold of Saguru’s hand and for the moment Saguru let him.

***

Saguru still felt ridiculously like a teenager again hours later as he settled into bed, but this time in a good way. The date had felt a little like being that age again, going to eat at a family restaurant and spending time getting to know each other better. True to his word, Nakahara—or Hiroto as he had insisted on being called—had kept in casual and friendly, careful not to press Saguru’s comfort levels. They’d held hands a few times, Hiroto walked Saguru most of the way home, and the most overtly romantic thing to have happened was a parting kiss. It had all been so innocent and gentle, and reminded him of some of his earliest attempts at dating without the added layer of adolescent awkwardness.

It wasn’t quite eleven yet, but Saguru curled under his sheet anyway, listening to the sound of a television from Kuroba’s apartment and the drone of a fan as his other neighbor took advantage of the cooler nighttime hours. If Kuroba hadn’t had Takumi over, Saguru might have considered going to him to try and sort out the emotions. He was moderately sure that Kuroba wouldn’t laugh at him for getting flustered by such a calm date.

It had been nice talking, though. The kiss had been nice too, and hand holding and casual brushes of contact; he missed intimacy and these fleeting moments had brought both relief and longing for the past that couldn’t be returned to.

Kuroba probably understood that feeling even though he’d lost his relationship to divorce not death.

For all the anxiety he had had prior to the date, it had been worth it. His palms smoothed down across his arms, half-hugged against his body subconsciously. His skin felt too sensitive, supercharged from an evening of close proximity that he wanted more of. Whether Hiroto was someone he could fall for or just someone he could be comfortable enough with to fill some of that desire, he wasn’t sure yet. But he was feeling a desire for intimacy where he hadn’t for ages.

A step forward, a step for the better. He knew more than enough psychology to recognize progress when he felt it. He rubbed his arms again just for the sensation of skin on skin. In Kuroba’s apartment, the television shut off. Kuroba and Takumi’s soft voices hummed just out of range before they fell silent too. Saguru’s phone lit up; an incoming text.

The words ' _Good night!’_ glowed up at him from the screen. Hiroto’s number. Saguru smiled at it for a moment before sending his own message back and setting the phone aside. It was a good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truthfully, Saguru's actually pushing himself a lot despite what he thinks. I mean, move halfway around the world, start a new job, making new friends, trying to make himself get over grief just because it feels like he's spent too much time wallowing in it.... >_> No, not pushing himself at all.
> 
> Hope it's ok that Hiroto is back. He was going to be a one off, then he became plot relevant. ^_^;;;;;;; At least this chapter also has lots of Kaito. Reminder that Kaito is endgame regardless of Saguru going on a date with someone else.


	14. Chapter 14

The sound of his cell phone ringing woke Saguru from a sound sleep. He reached for it, hand smacking ground aimlessly, but by the time he reached it, it was already rolling over to voicemail. Seven thirty in the morning, two missed calls from Mum. Two? Why on earth would she be calling so early in the morning? A new voice mail notification popped up and he chose to listen to it, scrubbing sleep from his eyes.

“ _Saguru, you still haven’t talked,_ ” Mum’s voice said over the phone in irritated English. _“And you didn’t answer my phone call yesterday.”_ She had called yesterday? Oh, wait, Saguru vague remembered a declining a call during the date at one point, but he’d barely glanced at the caller at the time beyond being sure it wasn’t work related. “ _So I’m coming over. I will see you at eight.”_

Saguru stared blankly at his bare wall, something very close to horror settling in his stomach. He disconnected from voice mail, not bothering to call Mum back; when she made up her mind, there would be no dissuading her from it.

The apartment, small as it was, was a mess. With his stress over the last week, he’d let everything go and dishes sat in the sink—all but the last of his silverware and a single mug—while his laundry had piled up in its bin in the closet. The desk’s mess of papers looked more like a localized explosion had occurred rather than its usual tidy piles, and Saguru never had gotten around to buying a small vacuum cleaner for keeping the floors neat. He didn’t want to think about the state of the bathroom considering he had put off cleaning it last week, intending to do it on the weekend except he had met Hiroto and things had gotten out of control. While Mum had seen him at his worst, if she walked in to this mess she’d think he was one step away from falling back into the mess he’d been then. While personally he found forgetting to clean after himself a bit different from not showering for a week and a half and manic, insomnia filled stretches of searching for leads as his life fell apart around him, Mum would probably see it as a backslide.

He lunged out of bed, staggering as his knee locked up before bundling up his futon and shoving it in the closet with the dirty laundry. Saguru hurried around, cleaning dishes and straightening papers and making sure the toilet was at least wiped down and scrubbed. If the apartment had been bigger, it might have been a problem, but for once the size was a blessing.

Saguru was attempting to button his shirt and start a pot of water for tea at the same time when he heard a knock—on the wrong door. She wouldn’t.

“Saguru?” Mum’s voice said as she knocked on Kuroba’s door again. Apparently she would because Mum knew full well which apartment he lived in since she’d helped move him into it. She’d asked him to introduce her to Kuroba; since he had yet to do so, she must be taking matters into her own hands. He flicked on the stove, gave up on finishing the top two buttons, and headed for the door.

“Mum—” Saguru started, but Kuroba opened his door before Saguru could get any further.

“Yes?” Kuroba said. He looked awake and put together, but then Kuroba always had been someone who could be up for hours and appear perfectly unaffected the next day no matter how little sleep he’d gotten.

“Oh, it looks like I got the wrong door,” Mum said. She smiled brightly at Kuroba. She didn’t even look in Saguru’s direction.

Kuroba did though, and there was a flash of smothered humor in his eyes that had Saguru wanting to yank Mum into the apartment to keep them from interacting.

“You must be the neighbor I’ve heard so much about,” Mum said, still smiling away.

“And you are, Madame?” Kuroba said, falling seamlessly into his role as flirt.

“Kuroba, my mother, Hakuba Elaine,” Saguru cut in before that route could go any further. Mum could and would flirt shamelessly just for the fun of it. Embarrassing him would be a side note. “Mum, Kuroba Kaito.”

“I remember that name,” she said like they hadn’t discussed Kuroba a multitude of times over the past few months. “You’re the one he was so caught up in in secondary school.”

“Mum.”

“Just between you and me, it was one of those clues that Saguru wasn’t one for the fairer sex.”

“Mother!” Saguru hissed. If Kuroba hadn’t already known Saguru’s sexuality, this would have been even more mortifying.

Mum finally looked at him, patting him on the shoulder. “Love, you never bring friends home, so I have to get my teasing out now that you’re an adult.”

“I wonder why I never introduce you to them if this is how you act.” In retrospect, she’d been just as embarrassing to Mel, though not to some of the other friends she’d met over the years. He could only figure it was some sort of test, though a test of him or the friend in question, he couldn’t tell.

Kuroba laughed, absolutely delighted by Saguru’s embarrassment of course. Some things never changed.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Mum said. She dropped her teasing persona to smile genuinely. “It’s been good to know Saguru has been talking to someone regularly since he moved here. He’s had a bad habit of turning into a hermit lately.”

“Mum,” Saguru sighed.

“So he’s said, but I think he’s getting a little better.”

Of course Kuroba would just carry on with the conversation as if Saguru wasn’t there. “Could we at least have a conversation about whether or not I’ve become a recluse indoors instead of on our doorsteps?”

“But Saguru, I’ve only just met your friend,” Mum protested.

“Kuroba, you’re welcome to join us for tea,” Saguru said, taking care of that issue.

Kuroba glanced back toward his apartment and tapped the doorframe for a few seconds before shrugging. “Sure. Actually, I got some muffins yesterday if you’d like to share. Takumi’s sleeping in so it’s not like we’re having a family breakfast this morning.”

Saguru winced. He hadn’t been very quiet this morning had he? “I hope I didn’t wake him earlier…”

“If you did, he just rolled over and went back to sleep.” Kuroba waved them off. “I’ll be there in a sec.” The door closed behind him.

Saguru looked from it to Mum’s smug smile. “You planned that didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t know for sure how he’d respond, but I’d hoped it would work out nicely.” She patted Saguru on the shoulder and pushed past him into the apartment. “He seems nice. Cute too.”

“Mum.” Saguru resigned himself to her making insinuating comments the rest of the morning.

Mum stood in the middle of the room, looking over what had changed since she’d been there last. It was surprisingly little, just the plant, piles of papers on the desk, the extra chair Saguru had bought so Kuroba had a place to sit, and a cheap calendar with seasonal photos pinned to one wall. Mum’s lips pursed. “You need more color in here. Maybe a bookcase. You’ve always had a bookcase.”

“What would I do with a bookcase? I don’t have books.” There were a few library books for reading along with the literature club, but he hadn’t bought any in months.

“You have plenty of books; they’re all in boxes at the house.” She crossed her arms. “It wouldn’t be much trouble to bring them and a case over. Make this place look a bit more like a home.”

“It doesn’t need any decorations.” The apartment _wasn’t_ a home. That had been the point of getting it. It wasn’t the home he’d lived in with his parents, and it was about as far from the flat he and Mel had lived in as possible. Saguru wasn’t sure what the apartment was, but it wasn’t supposed to be the sort of sanctuary a home represented. It was a transitory phase. Or at least that was what it was supposed to be. He hadn’t felt much when he moved in, and he had lived here for several months without thinking about it as more than adequate for his comfort and needs. It was fine how it was.

“At least get a table.” Mum tsked at the two chairs pulled up to the paper piled desk. “You can’t entertain guests at your desk.”

“I don’t entertain guests.”

“Then I guess neither me nor your neighbor count for much then?”

“You’re family. Kuroba is…” Could one explain Kuroba? “Kuroba is Kuroba.” He’d gotten a second chair. That was more than enough indication that Kuroba was welcome.

She pursed her lips again, the way she always did when she had a lot of negative things that she was holding back from saying. Saguru ignored the expression and gathered up tea things. Meanwhile, Kuroba let himself in, a box of muffins in one hand, a kitchen chair in the other.

“I figured an extra seat couldn’t hurt,” he said, settling the chair next to the others at the desk.

Mum sent Saguru a look.

“Kuroba is my only visitor ninety percent of the time and you gave me half an hour of warning,” Saguru complained. He tossed tea into his teapot, loose leaf, Mum’s favorite brand as well as his own that was a pain to get ahold of in Japan. “There is no reason to get a third chair when this is the first time in months I have had more than one guest at a time. Also, there is little enough space as it is. Where would I put a table and three chairs?”

“Against the far wall,” Mum said, nodding to the wall he shared with Kuroba.

“That would block the closet.”

“Not if you had two chairs to the table and left the third at the desk.”

“I’ll consider it,” Saguru said, not really intending to do so. Mum had the look in her eye that said it would be brought up again sometime when there wasn’t company. If she was really insistent about it, she might just end up buying a table and moving it in without asking.

“Muffins?” Kuroba cut in, holding up his box.

“Thank you.” Saguru settled the teapot along with tea cups onto the desk and…alright, perhaps Mum did have a point because it was rather crowded between his work things and dishes for three people.

“So,” Kuroba said, smoothing the way as was his specialty, “might I say that it’s also a pleasure to finally meet you, Hakuba-san. I admit I have wondered a time or two about what sort of woman raised him.”

And how many of those musings had been in conjunction with cursing him? Saguru wondered cynically.

Mum clearly had similar thoughts as she laughed. “Saguru’s very much his own man,” she said, “but I suppose he came by a desire for understanding honestly. Between scientists and police officers on his father’s side, and doctors and historians on my side, he was always around people looking to learn something.”

“And what might your calling be?” Kuroba gave her his best smile and Mum batted her eyes and waved it off in good humor.

“I was a psychologist for years, though I’m retired now. You can blame me for that part of his interests; there were always a lot of books lying around.” She smiled, likely remembering a much younger Saguru sneaking books out of her office and trying to apply psychological theory to actual people. He’d always had a bit of trouble with that last step as no matter how good an understanding he had in theory, it never seemed adequate enough in practice.

“Is that where he got that habit of asking for people’s motivations.” Kuroba shot Saguru a sidelong look. “I still think that as a detective, that’s something you should deduce.”

“And _I_ still believe that the best way to understand someone’s motives is to hear it from their perspective.” Saguru stole one of Kuroba’s muffins.

“And I think,” Mum put in, “that there’s value in both sides. Because sometimes people believe they’re doing something for one reason, but it turns out there’s more to it than what is on the surface.” She patted Saguru’s arm. “But enough about my interests. I wanted to meet you since you’re the only friend Saguru has mentioned since returning to Japan. I’m glad that he has someone he can turn to nearby.”

Kuroba was composed as ever, but Saguru got the impression that he felt as uncomfortable as Saguru did. Kuroba smiled and all but waved away Mum’s words. “It’s nice to have a neighbor that I can get along with, though I admit I was surprised.”

“A decade and a half is a long time,” Mum agreed. “I’d love the chance to talk more with you sometime.”

Kuroba put on his best mischievous smile. “Will there be embarrassing photos and baby stories?” he joked.

“I’m sure something could be arranged.”

Saguru supposed he should have seen that coming. Oh well. It would be awkward, but at least Kuroba wasn’t likely to do more than tease him in private.

“Now, _Saguru_ ,” Mum said, sipping her tea with a serious expression. “We need to talk.”

“Can’t we enjoy the morning first?” Saguru said.

“No, Love, if you put this off, you’ll keep putting it off. Care to explain this last week?”

Saguru’s shoulders slumped. Kuroba leaned back, watching but staying out of the conversation. “I did say it wasn’t anything bad, Mum. I merely had a lot on my mind. I had a date.”

Mum had been prepared for a lecture or maybe another reinforcing discussion about why isolation was not the answer to negative emotions, but whatever she was expecting, it hadn’t been that answer. Her firm expression softened. “Saguru….” She caught his free hand. “When I said to try to be more social, I didn’t mean for you to push yourself too hard.”

“I know,” Saguru said, voice a bit rough despite himself. He tried to pretend that Kuroba wasn’t watching this discussion. “I am not pushing too hard, or at least I don’t believe I am. It was to see if I could. If I was comfortable with trying… I’m not sure where I stand still, but it wasn’t a bad time last night. I was nervous though.”

“Does he know…?” Mum started, and Saguru shook his head.

“I said I wasn’t sure if I was ready for anything serious and he was respectful about that. He’s not certain he is either. I am still getting to know him. So far he seems like a nice enough person, someone I can talk to and whose company I can enjoy for an hour or two every now and again and that’s enough.” There was no pressure to have more than that, no drive to deepen a relationship before he was ready. No promises made to have an exclusive relationship at all, just a friendly date and a handful of text messages between them. Anything more than that would have been too much. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk about it sooner.” It had felt like talking about it would change something, or make it mean more when it was a big enough step already.

Mum studied his face and then nodded, seeming to decide that he hadn’t pushed himself too much or slid back toward depression as she’d feared. “I’m glad, then. Not that you didn’t feel like you could talk about it, because that’s not a good sign about your readiness or not, but glad that it turned out well enough.”

“As am I,” Saguru said with a sigh.  At some point he’d finished the muffin, having barely tasted it. He looked at the paper and crumbs, resisting the urge to occupy his hands with shredding the paper into smaller and smaller bits. “I’m doing better, Mum,” he said softly.

She squeezed his hand and let it go; perhaps letting some of her worries as well. He could hope at least. “I’m glad,” was all she said though, letting the conversation lie without prodding for particulars. Her eyes settled on the plant she gave him. “Might need a bit more sun for that.

It still looked healthy to Saguru’s eyes, but he trusted Mum’s instinct with plants. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I have a stand that you could use for—”

“Mum, please stop trying to fill my space with furniture,” Saguru said with fond exasperation.

“It is kind of bare in here,” Kuroba said, adding his two cents. He sipped his tea with a bland, innocent expression.

Saguru rolled his eyes. He didn’t miss Mum hiding a smile into her cup.

Mum brought up their work week, and they filled the span of a teapot and half a box of muffins with casual, friendly conversation. It was much more comfortable to share a meal with Kuroba and Mum together than Saguru had expected. The only teasing came to play with how he didn’t have anything planned outside of work for the week at all since, as Mum put it, laundry and groceries did not count for an outing. Surprisingly, Mum didn’t bring up the date again, and after roughly an hour and reaching the dregs of the tea later, Mum took her leave.

Kuroba lingered after she left, collecting his things with a thoughtful look on his face. “So that was your mother.”

“That was Mum,” Saguru agreed.

“She seems nice.” Kuroba gave him a sideways look. “A lot more cheerful than I was expecting since you’re so serious most of the time. She’s definitely right that you could use some decorations though.”

“Must you?” Saguru sighed, though he didn’t really feel irritated, not like he did with Mum’s insistence. Kuroba grinned, no ill will behind his words or expression. “She used to be less overbearing,” he admitted. “But then I didn’t used to need her to be.”

“Parents,” Kuroba said sagely. “It’s how they show they care.” He patted Saguru on the shoulder. “Now. I need to go show I care to my son, who is sleeping the day away.”

“It’s ten thirteen.”

“Exactly! How are we going to do fun weekend, father-son bonding things _and_ have enough time for his homework if he’s sleeping in so late?” Kuroba shook his head with exaggerated horror. “He’s falling into bad habits.”

“This from the man who never seems to sleep.” Someday Saguru should do the math and compare what he knew of Kuroba’s waking hours, and comings and goings with his sleeping ones. It would likely yield worrying results.

“That is why I’m the parent and he’s the child; I can pull the whole ‘do as I say, not as I do’ card.”

***

Saguru found himself pulling out the box of photos Mum gave him and the album he’d made that night. He wasn’t sure what he felt as he looked at them. A bit of guilt was certainly in the mix. Saguru supposed that was unavoidable. Despite going on the date, he hadn’t really moved on yet. A picture of Mel jumping into a lake joined one of him being chased by younger cousins, both candid photos that showed him having fun and being vibrantly full of life. Those ones made Saguru smile. It was the candid photo of Mel lounging on the sofa as he read over a script, or the one his mother must have taken of the two of them laughing over something that made his heart ache.

There was a tap on the door, light enough that Saguru could have missed it, but he would know Kuroba knocking anywhere by this point. He paused over the photos, but left them where they were in favor of the door.

“It’s late,” Saguru said.

“I know.”

Kuroba’s expression was neutral on the edge of serious, his posture open and calm. Saguru couldn’t guess what he wanted, but whatever it was, it wasn’t going to involve Kuroba’s usual joking front. Kuroba held his gaze, challenging him to make a choice. Saguru looked away first, stepping back to let Kuroba in.

Kuroba glanced around the room, just a slight tilt of his chin. Saguru felt a twinge of protective, possessive impulse as that look crossed over the photos. A ridiculous feeling; they were only photos and they didn’t hold anything that Saguru wouldn’t be willing to share.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” Kuroba said, remaining standing. “I didn’t mean to butt in on your family time.”

“I didn’t mind. I wouldn’t have invited you in if I minded.”

Kuroba’s lips twitched, hearing his own words given back to him. “I know. I wouldn’t have stayed for tea otherwise. Still.”

“Actually,” Saguru said with a sigh, “I’m glad you were there. Otherwise she would have asked a good deal more questions.” He sat in his desk chair carefully not gathering the photos back up.

“Don’t want to talk about it?”

Casual. Too casual. An offer perhaps. One that Saguru was welcome to turn down. “I would rather not be psychoanalyzed by my own mother. She usually is good with keeping work and parenting separate, but she blurs the lines when she’s worried.”

“Does she have reason to be this time?”

Kuroba’s body language was still open and casual. Saguru chose to answer honestly. “I don’t know.” He nodded at the free stool in silent offer. Kuroba sat, perched like he would leave at a moment’s notice if Saguru wanted him to. That was…Saguru wasn’t sure what he felt about that. The emotional muddle could be shoved away for another day while he tackled the other emotional mess on hand. “I don’t believe that there is reason to worry this time, but I’ve become a bad judge of my mental state and sometimes need that outside opinion. Mum has been helping with that.”

“Is she why you moved back to Japan?” Kuroba asked.

“No. It was my decision. She suggested seeking out friends or doing something different, but I don’t think she expected me to leave everything and move to Japan.” He hadn’t told anyone when he moved. Saguru wondered what the few people he’d still been in touch with thought when he all but vanished off the face of the earth. If he ever felt up to it, he should probably call or message to let them know he was alive if nothing else.  “I don’t quite know all of what I’m feeling right now, but going on a date wasn’t a mistake.”

“Okay.” Kuroba nodded slowly. One leg came up so he could lean his chin on his knee, fingers laced over his shin to keep it there. “Tell me about him.”

“There’s not much to tell.” But that wasn’t true. Saguru wasn’t a practicing detective, but he was still a detective. Kuroba waited patiently. "He's a business man, late twenties, likely better off financially or higher up at work. Enjoys art—I ran into him the same day I visited you at the museum actually—and seems to be fond of animals if his texts are anything to go by.” Saguru frowned, thinking. “He texts frequently, which I wasn’t expecting for some reason. I suppose most people in my acquaintance prefer to use their phones to make calls. Stubborn and straightforward considering I turned him down twice.”

“Why did you say yes this time then?”

Why? “Because I wanted to know if I could,” Saguru said, feeling each word out like he was tasting something new. “It hadn’t crossed my mind since Mel died to look at someone that way, so I wanted to know if I still could and I now know that I can and that I can enjoy going on a date.”

“But it still makes you feel guilty,” Kuroba said, understanding in his eyes. “I’ve been divorced from Aoko for years and it still doesn’t feel right most of the time to look at other people.”

“Exactly.” Saguru picked up a photo. In it, Saguru posed side by side with Mel after one of Mel’s performances. Mel still had on his costume and stage makeup. They both looked happy. It bothered Saguru that he couldn’t remember exactly which performance it had been, something period from the costumes, but while he could think of half a dozen possibilities off the top of his head, only Mel would have remembered which it was at a glance. He held it out to Kuroba.

As Kuroba looked at it, Saguru talked. “We were on a date that night,” he said, not meaning the picture, seeing a different scene in his head. “Celebrating him getting a lead role—Mel was an actor. I’d had a long week between teaching and working with the police on the side helping with a string of suspicious deaths that might or might not have been interrelated. It seemed like a good way to relax for both of us.” He could feel when Kuroba looked up from the picture though Saguru didn’t see it. He was looking down at the photos spread across his desk without really seeing any of them. “We had a nice dinner out. Went for a bit of a walk after.” His leg had felt fairly good that day. “I got a call while we were walking, about the case I was helping with. A new lead that was time sensitive, so we headed toward it. We didn’t get to the scene though.”

The smooth, glossy faces of the photographs slid under his fingertips as he ran a hand over them.

“I’m not sure if he was supposed to be the target or if I was,” Saguru said. He felt detached for the moment. Analytical because that was the only way he could be and hold himself together talking about that moment. “There were three shots taken and two hit him and somehow missed me. It wasn’t instantly fatal. He made it to the hospital and lived for a few days more before he passed. I tried to find the killer, but I couldn’t.”

Kuroba handed back the photo. Saguru returned it to the others as heavy silence sat between them.

“I,” Kuroba started, stopped. He licked his lips and tried again. Indecision looked foreign on him. “Oyaji used to do all kinds of tricks on stage. Dangerous ones, sometimes, but he was always so careful about checking things, always. He had this one trick that used pyrotechnics. It wasn’t anything huge but somehow that night someone missed that the pyrotechnics were too close to the compressed tanks for some other stuff and, yeah…” Kuroba’s knuckles were white where they overlapped. The thin scars there stood out, years of working with wires and razors and tools. “I was in the audience that day. Never missed a show if I could help it.”  Kuroba shrugged, but nonchalant was something neither of them could pull off right now. “Never really properly dealt with it I guess. When I found out it wasn’t a stage accident after all…”

“You became Kid,” Saguru finished. “I’ve been told that it gets better after a while…”

“It does and it doesn’t. I don’t know how it is for other people, but I can go weeks without thinking of people who’ve died, and then something happens and I spend weeks when I can’t stop thinking about it. Aoko never got that.” Kuroba smiled bitterly. “For her, death is sad for a while and then she moves on. Same with Kaa-chan I think, though she never forgot Oyaji of course.”

“Hmm.” A year was still too soon to say what sort of person Saguru was with grief in long term. He didn’t think he’d ever let go of Mel completely, not with how he’d died. Not unless he ever learned the how and why and could see justice met. But he wasn’t sure he had the drive anymore to see that out personally like he would need to. That instinctual fear and paranoia of someone else getting hurt and the sting of having had every avenue closed off to him lingered too much.

“So yeah, you progress at your own pace I guess,” Kuroba said. “Maybe if things are ever resolved, I could move on properly too.”

“Resolution would be nice,” Saguru agreed. Kuroba had been seeking resolution for over fifteen years. It was hard to say if he’d ever get it. Something must have shown on his face because Kuroba looked tired and serious.

“I’m close,” he said. “I know I’m close. To one of my goals anyway.”

“To finding what you’re searching for or in exposing your father’s killers?”

Kuroba just gave him a tight smile in response. Saguru should have expected that. Even now there was a limit to how open they were being with each other.

They were quiet for a while. Saguru straightened the pile of pictures and began putting them away again. He let Kuroba look at them as he filed them away one by one, not telling the stories behind them, but letting him see a bit more of Saguru’s life over the past years and draw what conclusions he wanted from them. After the pictures had been cleared away, Kuroba cleared his throat.

“So,” he said in a lighter voice, “the guy you went on a date with. Going to go out again?”

Saguru tapped fingers absently along the picture box. “Most likely. Provided he is interested.”

“Can’t see why he wouldn’t be,” Kuroba said.

Saguru frowned at him. He could think of quite a few reasons offhand why a second date wouldn’t be in his near future. Saguru was not someone that made easy connections or had an engaging personality, and he had enough emotional and mental baggage at the moment to send someone like Hiroto the other direction if he started getting to know him more.

“What? He is if he said yes even after being rejected by you before, and he texts a lot. If he’s still texting after the date, he’s still interested.”

“Fair enough,” Saguru muttered.

“Don’t tell me you have self-confidence issues about this sort of thing.” Kuroba looked like he was torn between trying not to laugh and incredulity. “You seemed confident enough in high school.”

“And in high school I carefully made sure that it was only ever women I flirted with and was whole and hale mentally and physically.”

“I guess I’m not really someone who has much trouble interacting with the person I like or confidence issues,” Kuroba said. “So I shouldn’t make comments about it.”

“Confidence, I find, is often a matter of situation.”

“Or how well you can fake it.”

“That too.” And sometimes, Saguru thought, you could fool yourself as much as you fooled other people until you believed in that mask too. How much was that how Kuroba operated?

“Well, I hope that whatever your relationship or whatever’s going on with this guy it’s at least fun. And if it doesn’t work out romantically, you might gain a friend.”

“I could probably use a few more friends,” Saguru mused.

“Well, you have at least one friend,” Kuroba said with a grin.

Saguru smiled back. Yes, he did have a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mum meets Kaito and Saguru survives the experience. I have an extra chapter to post soon, but I barely have time to post this this morning so will see when I have time ^_^;;


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might notice that there's a definite chapter count now! This is the predicted number of chapters based on last week's sift through what's written. THIS MIGHT CHANGE, but for now this is what it looks like it will be. I'll be honest the end is a bit rough, so it might gain a chapter or so, but it's not going to be shorter than 34 chapters at any rate. That means we're nearing a halfway point, So guys? You've been awesome as readers. This has been the most feedback on a story I've gotten in eight years of writing fic. Thanks for reading and commenting! <3

Chapter 15

Saguru was turning over the choice of continuing grading for the weekend (ugh) or doing his laundry—and really both things needed done; it was his own fault for making such a long test and for leaving his laundry go for so long—when there was a knock on his door. Kuroba was out—had left earlier that morning with Takumi, presumably to get breakfast—Mum hadn’t left any messages about visiting, and while Hiroto did know where he lived, they hadn’t discussed another date beyond the fact that they were both amenable to the idea of there being a second date.

The knock came again, this time accompanied by Kuroba’s voice. “I know you’re in there, Hakuba. You’re always home on Saturday mornings.”

Saguru rolled his eyes and levered himself out of his chair. “A bit presumptuous of you,” Saguru said as he unlocked his door. On the other side was Kuroba, a mildly alarming grin on his face with Takumi at his side. “I might have been busy.”

“Hakuba,” Kuroba said, going mock serious. “I tell you this as a friend, but you are almost never busy.”

“I have tests to grade and laundry to do,” Saguru countered.

“You always have something to grade. I always have some project to work on. Takumi always has homework. You need to have some fun sometimes too.”

“Do I?” Saguru asked drily. He glanced at Takumi, but Takumi’s smile was inching toward Kuroba’s level of enthusiasm, which didn’t bode well. “What’s going on?”

“We’re headed out,” Kuroba said, slinging one arm around Takumi’s shoulders. “Want to come with us?”

“Doing what?” he asked. With Kuroba smiling like that, it had to be something terrifying.

“We haven’t picked yet,” Takumi said at the same time Kuroba said, “Family bonding.”

He looked between the two of them and took a half-step back inside. “I wouldn’t want to intrude…”

“Hakuba,” Kuroba said, reaching out to catch Saguru’s wrist before he could shut himself back in his apartment again. “It’s an invitation. You’re not intruding if we’re inviting you along. It’ll be fun.”

He opened his mouth to say no, more out of habit than anything else, and thought of what Mum would say if she knew he’d turned down an outing from someone he actually did consider a friend. Then Saguru looked at two expectant, excited faces and felt any resolve he had to lock himself in the apartment to finish grading crumble the rest of the way. “Fine. Let me get my shoes.” He pretended he didn’t see Takumi and Kuroba exchange a thumbs up behind him. How did dragging Saguru along on an outing fit into Kuroba and Takumi’s family bonding time? Furthermore, when had Takumi reached the point of voluntarily wanting Saguru’s company?

….there was probably no deeper meaning in this than just inviting a friend on an outing and Saguru needed to learn not to over analyze these sorts of things. His shoes and cane were together, and after putting on his shoes and gathering up his wallet, he gave the pile of things he still had to do a long look. It would still be there later unfortunately, but he supposed that a year ago he had managed to balance work and a life outside it, so it wouldn’t kill him to try to do so again.

Kuroba made a show of checking his watch as Saguru locked up his apartment door and Saguru flashed back to high school and how Saguru had always been the one checking the time then. He’d been obsessed with punctuality most of his life, but the pocket watch he’d carried was among the things left in boxes at his parents’ home. Odd that only now did he find himself missing it.

“Well?” he said as both Kurobas stood watching him. “Where are we going?”

“We haven’t picked yet,” Takumi said again. He bounced on the balls of his feet and led the way down the stairs, slowing his pace enough that Saguru could keep up even though Takumi seemed too full of energy. “You see, we have this thing that we do where we pick a random thing to do in the area, and a random restaurant.”

Kuroba pulled out his cell phone. “Random restaurant generator,” he said, pulling up and app. “It takes your location and gives a random restaurant in the area.”

“We’ve tried some different things that way. Foreign food.”

“Sketchy holes in the wall.”

“Some places we probably shouldn’t have gone to in street clothes,” Takumi said grinning. “And Tou-san made a random activity generator that works by combining random things that you can do in a certain mile radius and cross referencing events going on at the moment. So we’ve gotten things like ‘go for a walk at the park’ before and then things like, ‘attend folk music event at two o’clock.’”

“The only rule is that there’s no take backs,” Kuroba said, twirling his phone as he walked down the stairs backwards.

Takumi snickered. “To this day, that rule is the only reason Tou-san has ever stepped foot in the Sumida aquarium.”

Saguru laughed as Kuroba shuddered. He could imagine how badly Kuroba must have handled that with his ichthyophobia.

“You laugh,” Kuroba grumbled, “but you should have seen Takumi’s expression the year we had to go to the doll festival.”

“Fear of dolls?” Saguru asked.

“I’m not _afraid_ of them,” Takumi said. He waved a hand vaguely. “They’re just… Okay, so Shiemi had some really creepy dolls when she was little and used to think it was funny to turn them all facing me whenever I slept over so I’d wake up to these glass eyes all staring at me.”

Kuroba laughed and skipped away when Takumi swatted at him.

“I can find a fish if I need to!” Takumi threatened halfheartedly. “And it’s not dolls in general, it’s just a lot of dolls all in one place, staring in the same direction that’s really creepy is all.”

“Pony up, Hakuba,” Kuroba teased. “What can’t you stand? You know our weaknesses.”

“And give you the opportunity to exploit mine?” Saguru said. “Never.”

Takumi laughed and Kuroba pouted. Saguru hid a smile already feeling better about the outing.

“In the spirit of fairness though, I dislike mushrooms if they are cooked into something.”

“Hmm, not a phobia, but I can work with that.” If Saguru found mushrooms in any of his food, he’d know who to blame. Thankfully mushrooms were something that generally could be picked off a dish. Kuroba finally turned right way around pulling up the random activity generator on his phone. “So, gentlemen, where are we headed?”

“Have Hakuba-sensei pick,” Takumi said, “since he’s the one we invited along. You can just press the button. Or maybe you have something in mind?”

“What do you even do for fun anyway?” Kuroba asked curiously. “Besides read mystery novels.”

“I don’t really,” Saguru sighed, picking up his pace to walk alongside Kuroba. His cane tapped regularly against the concrete as he plucked the phone from Kuroba’s hands. The generator looked simple enough to use, and even had a few limiters based around time, distance, and cost.

“Not now, clearly,” Kuroba said, letting Saguru have his phone. “But you must have done something for fun over the years.”

“Theatre,” Saguru said absently. He tamped down on bittersweet memories of watching Mel on stage or going out together to see new performances by less known play writes. “And conventions.”

“Mystery conventions?” Kuroba guessed.

“Sometimes. There was an annual Holmes convention in England, and I sometimes attended Holmes Society meetings. But I also enjoyed biochemistry conferences. It was good to keep up in the field.”

“Biochemistry?” Takumi asked. As a literature club member he knew about Saguru’s interest in all things Sherlock Holmes, but Saguru supposed he didn’t really talk about his other interests.

“I majored in teaching and biochemistry with dual minors in criminology and psychology.” He tapped in a distance restriction of within three stops on a train either direction—hopefully that would be reasonable in restricting excess walking—and added a reasonable cost cap. “I taught chemistry after I graduated for most of my adult life, but I never really lost touch with the current research until this last year.”

“What the heck are you doing teaching English then?” Takumi sputtered.

Saguru glanced away from the phone to meet his wide-eyed curiosity. “There is always a need for English teachers. I merely needed an escape from England and teaching in Japan was the first idea that panned out.” Curiosity sparkled in Takumi’s eyes, but Saguru turned back to the phone like he didn’t see the questions forming on Takumi’s tongue.

“You’re such an over achiever,” Kuroba sighed, cutting in easily. “Two majors and minors? Really?  But then, you already were working an international job in high school, so…”

Saguru rolled his eyes. _Saguru_ was the overachiever? Kuroba was the one who had spent almost two decades living a dual life and building up skills necessary for both of them as well as keeping track of far more fields of knowledge than Saguru bothered to pay attention to. Between the two of them, Kuroba was the remarkable one; he just didn’t have the credentials on paper to show it. “I can just press the button then?” he asked, showing Kuroba the restricted parameters he’d entered.

“Yup.” Kuroba grinned. “Then the program does the hard work for you.”

“I’m sure it’s a wonderful bit of programming,” Saguru said, pressing the button. A blue and white hourglass filled the screen for several seconds and then it cleared.

“What is it?” Takumi asked, leaning around Saguru to look. He snickered. “Really?”

“What?” Kuroba grabbed his phone back. “You know, I’m not sure if it’s good luck or bad that out of all the possibilities that could have come up, you got karaoke.”

Takumi kept snickering. “You can’t get more stereotypical of a group activity than karaoke! I thought for sure we’d get something weird like, like tea ceremony classes or how to yodel.”

“Have either of those things happened?” Saguru asked. He wasn’t quite sure whether to feel resigned or amused about karaoke.

“No, but we did have a dance class once, and then there was the _sumi-e_ painting…”

“We took a trip to Tohou Tower once. It was just like grade school field trips all over again,” Kuroba added. “So you can get at least as stereotypical as karaoke.”

“Well,” Takumi said, “the phone has spoken. Karaoke it is.”

“Is anywhere even open yet?” Saguru wondered. Kuroba already seemed to have a direction in mind since he was heading toward the train station. Saguru followed along after him. It was like some force had decided that he was going to live a day of the typical high school life he had never bothered to participate in when he actually was high school age. “I thought karaoke was something that was done in the evenings.”

“It’s after eleven,” Kuroba said. “Most places don’t open until around lunch, and then stay open late at night. Don’t worry, I know just the place…”

*

Kuroba did know a place, and from the familiar greeting at the front desk, he came there somewhat frequently. Well, that or he knew the greeter, but given the evidence of how comfortably Kuroba moved through the building and the desk greeter hadn’t strayed from the restrictions of polite interaction however familiar and genuinely glad to see Kuroba she had been, Saguru was betting on the former.

“We can get something to drink,” Kuroba said, passing around a menu when they got to the karaoke booth. The room had comfortable couches, a shelf with song lists, and an interactive monitor that had connecting microphones. “Trust me, if you sing a couple songs you’ll want something to drink.”

“How frequently do you go out singing?” Saguru asked, sitting on the edge of one of the couches. It was good to sit as there had been more walking than he had hoped to reach the place.

“From time to time.” Kuroba waved a hand, and now Saguru was wondering if he came to the karaoke place alone to do vocal exercises or something or if it was with coworkers. “Here, you can enter your drink order on the screen…”

Takumi slouched on the couch across from Saguru and Kuroba, looking around. “This place is nicer than the ones I’ve been to.”

“It’s a bit more expensive than some of them, but it’s got better refreshments too.” Kuroba put in his drink order.

“I’ve actually never done this before,” Saguru said, picking lemonade to drink rather than the flashier soft drinks or mixed drinks the menu highlighted.

“Never?” Takumi leaned forward to enter his order into the machine. “Not even in high school?”

“I never spent time with classmates outside of school when I was in Japan, and in England there isn’t as much interest in karaoke.”

“Well,” Kuroba drawled, leaning over the table to snag one of the volumes of song listings. “You know that means you have to sing something first.”

“Must I?” Saguru sighed. The novelty was wearing off quickly as it sank in that yes, he would have to participate.

“Those are the rules,” Takumi said. He was paging through a list, looking for songs that he knew, and so Saguru took a list from Kuroba.

It had been years since he actively listened to music in Japanese. He’s always been more of a fan of instrumental pieces to vocal, and his musical tastes beyond that were heavily influenced by Mum’s preference for 1960’s British rock groups. He could remember some music his father had used to listen to, and there were some pop groups that Saguru had been exposed to in high school, but those were both a long time ago. “It would be nice if there were more songs in English.”

“There’s a section in the back,” Kuroba said, pointing it out, “but it depends on what you’re looking for. It’s a weird mix of what they have as far as foreign music goes.”

Saguru flipped to it, scanning through a mix of songs—a good number from the eighties. He caught sight of a section of Beatles music, and even if it wasn’t his favorite group, he was guaranteed to know the words for just about any song they’d written. He pointed to one at random. “I’ll sing that.”

“So you’re into the Beatles.” Kuroba grinned. “We’re just playing up stereotypes today aren’t we?”

“Mum loves them and I grew up listening to her play their records,” Saguru said primly. “Don’t judge.” It also helped that a great deal of their lyrics were repetitive and simple to remember and he was less likely to fumble a phrase with them.

Kuroba put the song on, and Saguru sang through ‘Here Comes the Sun’ passably enough. It fit his vocal range comfortably and while he was sure that he had given a less than ideal performance, he at least had not embarrassed himself. And if Mum asked any time in the next few weeks, he would have two things to mention that would please her as it was one of her favorite songs. Saguru set the microphone back in its holder, thoroughly relieved that his required participation had been fulfilled.

“Huh.” Both Kuroba and his son had their heads tilted in an eerie reflection of each other as they studied Saguru. “You actually sing pretty well,” Kuroba said.

“Thank you?” Saguru said. Thankfully the arrival of drinks meant that any other comments Kuroba might have said were swept aside in favor of sugary beverages.

“Me next,” Takumi said, already inputting his song.

In the next twenty minutes, Saguru learned that both Kuroba and Takumi had decent singing voices. Kuroba had a much wider vocal range than the average singer—no surprise there—but either had poor taste in music (quite possible) or was making choices to get a reaction from Takumi (the more likely reason). From what Saguru gathered, all the song choices were from some anime or another, happy, and invariably accompanied by videos of cheerful looking school girls. Takumi’s taste ran more with the current JPOP or songs from the last few years.

“I’m embarrassed to know you,” Takumi said as Kuroba put on yet another cheerful anime song. “Why are all the songs from comedy series?”

“Half of your songs are love songs,” Kuroba countered as the music started up. He put on a sing-songy falsetto voice to fit the music as the display played clips of anime accompanied by the song’s lyrics.

While Saguru had no real desire to participate more, he had to admit that it was amusing to watch as the music choices got progressively odder, and then downright random as Kuroba or Takumi chose songs for each other and they were put on the spot trying to figure out the lyrics and melody. They both made an effort to make Saguru feel involved, occasionally throwing comments his way or leaving moments where he could add comments of his own. Eventually the two of them wound down, hungry stomachs calling for an end of singing.

Kuroba thrust the microphone into Saguru’s hands. “Finish with you since you started?” he asked, giving Saguru the option to refuse if he wanted.

Both Kuroba and Takumi had been ridiculous. They wouldn’t mind even if he did sound a bit foolish. Saguru took the mic and pulled Takumi’s catalogue closer. A few songs back, he’d recognized one of the pop songs on the page.

“You listen to boy bands?” Takumi asked.

“Not at all,” Saguru said. “But my other neighbor occasionally will play new songs they have taken a liking to on repeat and they do like boy bands.” Listen to the same song on repeat long enough and the words would filter into his memory whether he was actively paying attention or not.

“Why didn’t you just start with one of those songs?”

“I don’t actually like the songs. And,” Saguru shrugged, “I don’t know the groups or titles of most of the songs but this one was on the radio while I was at the grocery store the other day and they mentioned the song title and group.” He hummed with the intro to make sure he was on key, before the lyrics started. Halfway into the second round of the chorus, Kuroba’s hand snaked into the corner of Saguru’s vision and snatched up the other microphone, harmonizing with Saguru. For a moment, his singing faltered, his own surprised laughter catching him off guard. Kuroba grinned and winked, waving a hand at the monitor and they finished the song together.

Takumi clapped slowly, mock serious. “It’s official. Now I don’t know either of you.”

“Hmm,” Kuroba said, reaching over the table to sling an arm awkwardly around Takumi’s neck. “Maybe we should all three sing a song. I think I can find something suitably embarrassing to have you sing it with us—”

“Let’s not,” Saguru said. He set the microphone he had used back in its place as Takumi tried to squirm free beside him. “I believe getting lunch was mentioned?”

Kuroba released Takumi with a smile. Takumi fall backwards onto his own couch with a squawk. “One surprise lunch location coming up,” Kuroba said, his phone appearing in his hands from seemingly nowhere. “Hakuba, if you’d do the honors~!”

Saguru rolled his eyes and pressed the button. Takumi sat up, straightening his hair and clothing as they all leaned in to see the result.

“And we’ve got an _okonomiyaki_ place!” Kuroba announced.

“Perfect, something I know I’ll like,” Takumi said. “Nothing against that one Cambodian restaurant, it’s just we had no idea what the menu said let alone what we ordered.”

“Please tell me you’ve at least had _okonomiyaki_ before,” Kuroba said to Saguru.

“Of course I’ve had _okonomiyaki_ ,” Saguru said, feeling a bit offended. One didn’t need to have a prolific social life to have had popular Japanese foods. It might have been the better part of a decade since he’d had any, but Saguru had traveled Japan plenty and had more than enough time in his younger years to sample a range of things.

“Good, because otherwise I’d have to wonder what you did while you were in Japan all those years ago.”

“You’re well aware what I was doing in Japan back then,” Saguru said, about as close as he would get to mentioning Kid with Takumi present.

“Ah,” Kuroba said with a mournful nod, “right, you were busy stalking and accusing innocent high school students of felonies.”

Saguru sputtered, mortified to find his face warming with a blush. “I was _not_ stalking—You—for goodness sake, I came to Japan to i _nvestigate_ —!”

“But Hakuba, I’ve met your mother, and she agrees that—”

Saguru tossed one of the flimsy paper napkins that had come with their drinks at Kuroba’s face as he laughed. From the side, Takumi watched with an odd smile on his face that prickled at Saguru’s instincts, but when he turned for a closer look, Takumi was rolling his eyes and grabbing Kuroba’s phone from him to get the address for the restaurant.

“Can we go?” he asked. “My stomach feels like it’s trying to digest itself.”

“Lead the way,” Kuroba said.

*

Takumi did the navigating, glued to Kuroba’s phone and leading them down side streets that—according to him—were the fastest way to get there. Saguru didn’t mind the frequent turns; some of the streets were far more scenic than the main roads full of traffic and people and signs vying for attention. Kuroba filled the trip with stories about coworkers and the ridiculous things he had witnessed people doing at the museum this week. The air was hot and humid, being the rainy season, but thankfully the sky was clear, and while warm, it wasn’t oppressively so. The restaurant had some sort of citrus tree out in front, and was a more traditionally styled wooden building that stood out among the concrete structures around it. The building was fairly small, but they were fortunate enough to arrive during a lull and got a table.

The only downside, Saguru discovered once they had entered, was that the grills were set in low tables with cushions to sit on rather than chairs. Saguru eyed them with resignation. The walking had been surprisingly kind on his knee but trying to sit traditionally would probably leave it locked up and aching.

Kuroba noticed the look and raised an eyebrow in question. Saguru shrugged. He could manage provided he wasn’t expected to sit properly. When they sat, Saguru kept his bad leg to one side, putting his weight on his good one. Kuroba sat next to him and Takumi across from Kuroba.

When their waitress took their order—a twenty-something young woman Saguru bet worked part time while going to college—Takumi conjured a paper flower and a smile for her and Saguru was reminded of a much younger Kuroba when he was trying to regain Aoko’s favor.

Takumi noticed Saguru watching when the waitress walked away with a shy smile and blushed. “What?” he mumbled.

“Nothing,” Saguru said, politely looking away.

Kuroba snorted. “I told you he was a flirt.”

“Hmm.” This was the first Saguru had seen of the behavior. Unlike how Kuroba had acted at Takumi’s age, Takumi didn’t flirt with his female classmates at all. Nor had he done anything earlier in the day. Saguru wondered if he only acted that way when he was with Kuroba, and if so, why? Interesting.

Kuroba elbowed Saguru. Saguru elbowed back without thinking and then felt embarrassingly like he was back in high school. “What?” he snapped.

“You’re thinking too hard.” Kuroba tapped his eyebrows, mimicking Saguru’s serious expression. “You’re supposed to be having fun, not gathering wrinkles.”

Saguru thought that logic worked a lot better when you were not almost thirty-five. He already had developing wrinkles setting in along well used facial expressions.

“Ah, the eyebrow is back.” Kuroba grinned. “I guess you’ll just get wrinkles on one side of your forehead with that.”

The eyebrow in question lifted a fraction higher. Saguru wasn’t being judgmental, he was being skeptical of Kuroba’s priorities and lines of thought.

“You know you both have wrinkles, right?” Takumi cut in, earlier embarrassment transformed into a bland expression. “You’re getting old.”

“Ouch,” Kuroba sighed. “I’m still young for a dad.”

“Not that young,” Takumi said bluntly. “Watch, you’ll be finding grey hairs in a few years.”

“I hope not.”

“Why, Kuroba, you’d think that you’d want to get grey hair early,” Saguru said. “That means you’re more likely to keep your hair.”

Kuroba frowned. “Well. Lucky you because I think your gray is creeping up from your sideburns.”

Saguru snorted. It wasn’t, not yet at least. But his father and grandparents on both sides had kept their hair, so he wasn’t worried in the least on that account. “Check back in a few years, I’m the same age as you are.”

Takumi was making an odd face again, and Saguru opened his mouth to ask what was on his mind, but was derailed again by the arrival of their batter and toppings. He noted that Takumi’s bowl had slightly more meat in it compared to the other bowls. She smiled and left them to do their cooking to their preferences.

Kuroba prepped the grill as they stirred their ingredients together. “So, I know Takumi likes his under cooked so the cabbage is still crunchy and the beef is a bit pink, but I’m betting you’re a well-browned kind of guy.”

“I have to wonder what process you’re coming to this conclusion from.”

“Well, considering how you take your toast,” Kuroba said—and when on earth had he learned Saguru’s toast habits? Saguru had not had much toast since returning to Japan—as he finished oiling the grill with a flick of his wrist, “and how when you packed lunches in school anything fried or grilled would be darker…”

“And what are your preferences?”

Kuroba stirred his _okonomiyaki_ ingredients before pouring the mixture onto the grill. “Golden brown of course,” he said. “Not overdone, not under done, the perfect ratio of crisp and soft.”

“He likes things cooked but hates if it starts tasting burnt,” Takumi translated. He had spread his batter out into a circle, staring as the edges started to crisp up as if it would make it cook faster. His stomach rumbled audibly.

Saguru hid a smile, remembering being a teenager and how much food he had consumed during growth spurts. He poured his pork _okonomiyaki_ onto the griddle, savoring the smell of cooking onion, cabbage and meat as the pancakes sizzled. This was probably something he could make in his home if he bothered to get the ingredients, Saguru reflected. He still was not much of a cook, but he had been able to manage regular pancakes in the past, so maybe finding a mix for the batter and he could indulge in _okonomiyaki_ in the future. Or perhaps not, as Saguru knew he was fairly lazy and anything that required much prep work often never got made even if he knew how.

Across the table, Takumi’s eyes narrowed and he flipped his _okonomiyaki_. It sizzled, its cooked side only a little brown at the edges. Saguru made to poke at his own, having never been good at guessing when things were ready to flip, but Kuroba caught his wrist.

“Uh uh, nope, you don’t touch it before it’s ready. That’s the rule.”

“How on earth is anyone supposed to tell when it’s ready if they don’t touch it?” Saguru muttered.

“Practice,” Kuroba said, watching his meal intently. “And the edges. Edges get darker faster, so the center is always going to be a bit lighter than them, and you go off that.” Kuroba flipped his neatly, the cooked side a perfect golden brown. “See?”

Saguru frowned at him.

Kuroba shrugged. “Besides, you poured yours last.” Takumi flipped his again and reached for the condiments to add on top, heavy handed on the mayonnaise as he added a little bit of everything before cutting into it. It was still a bit gooey in the center and Saguru cringed a bit at the thought of consuming a bite of raw batter.

Kuroba nudged his arm. “And yours should be good to flip just abooooout, now.” Kuroba flipped it before Saguru could reach to do so and Kuroba’s timing had been just about perfect. It was dark golden brown without being burnt. “There you go. I am a master at this.”

Takumi snorted around a mouthful, having to take a drink of water to keep from choking. “You can cook in a pan, but help us all if you try to bake.”

Kuroba flipped his and a few minutes later flipped Saguru’s okonomiyaki, now cooked through, and Saguru ate his, adding toppings sparingly. It was good, better than he remembered them being.

“This is good,” Takumi said, echoing Saguru’s thoughts as he finished off his meal. “We’ll have to remember this place.”

“It’s worth a second visit,” Kuroba agreed. He finished his last bite as well, placing his chopsticks to the side before standing up. “Excuse me for a second, bathroom,” he said, leaving Saguru and Takumi alone.

Takumi pushed around bits of green onion and bonito flakes left on his empty plate. Saguru rubbed his leg as he resettled, thinking back to the strange smiles he’d noticed several times so far today.

“It’s strange, isn’t it,” he said, “having someone else along.”

Takumi shrugged. “A little. It’s not the first time someone’s joined us.”

“I doubt it helps that I am your teacher,” Saguru said carefully.

Takumi smiled a little, glancing up and then back at his plate. “Yeah, that is a little weird but it’s more…” He shrugged. “It’s different seeing Tou-san with someone he considers a friend. I don’t… He has some friends from work, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him relax around them.”

Saguru had grown up with Mum, who was very social and had had friends around regularly. He had never had trouble with seeing her interact with people differently, but to imagine his father laughing or joking with someone that wasn’t his mother? He could understand how there could be disconnect.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Takumi continued. “I guess I can see a bit what he must’ve been like when he was my age though.”

“He’s kinder than he was back then,” putting words to a realization that he’d had a while back. “I’m not sure he was as in tune with boundaries back then, or if so, that he cared as much when he crossed them.”

“Yeah, well, he grew up,” Takumi said like Saguru’s observation was a given.

Saguru chuckled. Perhaps it was a given. Saguru wasn’t as prideful and arrogant as he once was either.

“Oh yeah,” Takumi sat straighter. “How’s your leg? The walking wasn’t too bad on you was it?”

Saguru hid his surprise. “It’s a bit stiff, but no worse than it gets after a day of teaching.” Standing might actually be worse than walking for his knee, it was sitting for the restaurant that had it aching and sending pins and needles to his toes. He shifted again. “Thank you for asking.”

Takumi shrugged and looked away. “Wouldn’t want you to regret coming with us.”

“It’s been nice,” Saguru said sincerely. It had been especially enjoyable to see Kuroba and Takumi interact.

“Well. Good. Maybe you can do something like this with us again sometime.”

“I’d like that.”

“Thanks for being Tou-san’s friend,” Takumi muttered before standing up as Kuroba returned from the direction of the bathroom. “So,” he said louder and clearly for Kuroba’s ears. “We’re paying for Hakuba-sensei, okay?”

“What?” Saguru protested.

“Already covered,” Kuroba said, holding up a receipt, and Saguru wondered when he had managed to pay their bill when he had gone to the bathroom.

“Kuroba, I can pay for my own meal,” Saguru sighed, levering himself to his feet. Kuroba caught his elbow and steadied him for the second it took to get his leg to work properly and his cane in place.

“You can pay next time,” Kuroba said. “This time I insist.”

Saguru pursed his lips. He fully intended to find a way to slip Kuroba the money for his meal later. That would probably be futile, and lead to Kuroba reverse pickpocketing it right back into his wallet, but he did have principles. And next time? How convenient that he envisioned a next time. (Saguru knew with all likelihood there would be many next times. It left him feeling a bit flustered for some reason.) “Next time,” Saguru said like a warning.

Kuroba ignored his tone and grinned sunnily. It wasn’t a genuine smile like some of his earlier ones, and Saguru wondered when he’d started being able to tell the difference.

The walk back was quieter, perhaps from the food settled in their stomachs, or maybe due to a shift in tone that Saguru hadn’t noticed occurring. He and Kuroba walked side by side this time with Takumi trailing after them, catching up on phone messages and perhaps playing a cell phone game.

“This was fun,” Saguru said as they got closer to their apartment building.

Kuroba grinned, this smile once more genuine. “Better than laundry and grading papers?”

“I still have to do those,” Saguru said, feeling a lot less dread about the task than he had this morning despite having let it sit, “but yes. Much nicer than work and chores. Despite what you think, I do enjoy leisure activities.”

“And that’s why you never do them?” Kuroba shot back.

Saguru huffed. Reading the weekly literature club novel was a leisure activity. As were the conversations with Kuroba throughout the week, and, he supposed, the conversations with Mum. And lately with Hiroto… Well, it wasn’t exactly leisure time, but Saguru had been exchanging text messages with Hiroto more frequently than he had with anyone, really. He had always been someone who preferred phone conversations to text messages, but Hiroto’s preference was the opposite, and Saguru found that he enjoyed receiving a few texts here and there throughout his day.

Which, now that he thought of it… Saguru pulled out his phone, and sure enough, there was a message.

_Working on a Saturday kind of sucks, but at least the coffee’s good_ , the message said. It was accompanied by a picture of a steaming coffee mug with “Caffeinate Now, Sleep Later” printed on the side. Saguru had to smile at the picture.

Kuroba leaned over and glanced at Saguru’s phone. “From that guy you mentioned?” he asked.

“Ah, yes.” Saguru backed out of the message self-consciously.

“Coffee drinker, hmm?”

“Yes?” Was that supposed to be important?

“Planning another date?”

“I haven’t asked,” Saguru said. He glanced at Takumi, but whatever he was playing on his cell phone seemed to have his complete attention. It felt distinctly strange to be discussing his potential romantic life in public, and with Kuroba at that. And yet it wouldn’t have felt odd at all if it were only the two of them talking at one of their apartments over tea. “I still wouldn’t mind a second date.”

“If he texts you like that all the time, he’s probably interested and just waiting for you to show interest back,” Kuroba said.

“I am aware.” Saguru wasn’t _that_ socially inept. In truth, he wasn’t sure why he was hesitating. It wasn’t because he thought Hiroto wanted more than Saguru was willing to give; they both weren’t interested in a serious relationship. He couldn’t say he was romantically attracted to Hiroto much at all, but as he had said to Kuroba before, it was nice to exchange in casual intimate gestures even if there were no deep emotions behind them.

“Well if you aren’t taking initiative and he isn’t taking initiative…” Kuroba tried to steal Saguru’s phone with an exaggerated gesture.

Saguru tucked it back in his pocket. “It’s fine, Kuroba.” It was nice that Kuroba was being…well, to be frank, he was being far more supportive than Saguru ever would have expected, but Saguru could handle his relationships on his own just fine.

“Okay, I’ll stay out of it,” Kuroba said with a shrug.

“I appreciate the sentiment behind the offer, if not the offer itself.”

Kuroba hummed with a shrug. They turned down their street and were quiet for a few more minutes before Kuroba said, “Thanks for going with us. I know spontaneous isn’t really your thing.”

“It was fun,” Saguru repeated. “A bit of spontaneity is probably good for me.”

Kuroba laughed.

They parted ways at their front doors, Kuroba and Takumi heading to their apartment to fill the rest of their day and Saguru to complete the tasks that he had set aside in the sake of social interaction. Despite the hours of grading papers he had, Saguru found a small smile on his face the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaito knows the karaoke place cuz he’s been there with coworkers. He’s also been there himself multiple times in disguise for voice practice, only one time he got drunk by himself when he was dressed as a woman. He forgot to modify his voice, and one of the people at the desk recognized it, so to this day, there are members of the staff who think he’s a professional cross dresser. Goodness knows what they thought about Takumi and Saguru. Saguru sings Beatles because apparently if you do karaoke in japan and someone realizes you’re British, you will end up singing the Beatles at some point. The boy band is because it’s amusing. I’m not sure what he sings, but the first thing that came to mind was actually kpop due to a friend in high school loving Super Junior. At least one song Kaito sings is the opening for Azumanga Daioh. Imagine Takumi’s horrified look.
> 
> Also, I have like 3-4 extras that belong all around this point. Should I space them out or would you guys like a bunch of content all at once?


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So next chapter marks the half way point, and so there will be one more extra this week in excitement for that (It's Kaito's birthday chapter) Hope you guys are enjoying things! Thanks for all the lovely comments! (promise I will get around to answering ^_^;;; )

Time, Saguru thought, was passing too quickly. The end of June brought Kuroba’s birthday, two more dates with Hiroto, and a doubling of Saguru’s workload as summer vacation loomed closer. The work alone could have been excuse enough to remain sequestered until the semester ended, but between Kuroba’s visits, Hiroto’s texts, and Mum’s phone calls, Saguru found himself more socially active than previous months rather than less. It was almost pleasant, actually. It felt a lot like how the end of a semester usually felt. It could have dragged him back into negative memories, but he was too busy to dwell on his grief or regrets. On his more optimistic days, Saguru felt cautiously happy.

The cynic in him pointed out that of course that meant things would go spectacularly wrong.

_Kid’s Longtime Rival, Abandoned the Chase?_

_The public is well aware of the chase that has spanned two Nakamori generations and Kudo Shinichi’s battle to capture Kaitou Kid. For those Kid aficionados who have followed Kid’s career from the start, they might remember that before Kudo Shinichi and before Nakamori Aoko took the flag in chasing our Magician in the Moonlight, there was another young detective out to catch Kid. Hakuba Saguru, British detective and son of previous Police Commissioner Hakuba, spent almost three years of Kid’s early career (post hiatus) chasing Kid. In that span of time, Hakuba Saguru came closer than any other detective to catching Kid until Nakamori Aoko’s efforts four years ago. To quote past descriptions of Hakuba’s methods, Hakuba seemed ‘to know Kid’s mind, reading ten steps ahead’ and ‘wholly in tune with Kid’s methodology.’ These descriptions might sound familiar to how Kudo Shinichi has been described in recent years. Interestingly, Hakuba Saguru, much like Kudo, was also a teenage detective when he first entered the scene against Kid._

_But despite having once cuffed Kid and forming the suspect profile the police still work off of, Hakuba Saguru vanished after graduating high school, leaving Kid to Japan’s police and detectives. Why? Theories could cite Hakuba’s severe knee injury shortly after graduation due to criminal backlash in a high profile case, or perhaps the detective’s choice to pursue higher education in London rather than Japan. Regardless of the long absence from Japan, it remains curious to learn that Hakuba Saguru has been in Japan for almost four months with no attempt to renew his chase against Kaitou Kid._

_As Kid nears his 200 th heist since his resurgence in crime, a spree spanning over a decade and a half, the public must ask what Hakuba Saguru has been doing in these months. As newer rivals fail to pressure Kid, perhaps it is time for an old rival to return. The great mind that once sent Kid on the defensive is needed once more, perhaps to end Kid’s flaunting of the law once and for all._

Saguru stared at the newspaper on his desk with a dull feeling of horror. It wasn’t the only article. Two pages later was an article calling out detectives for their failure to catch Kid for so many years. Somehow his name was in that too, and under much more laser focus than Kudo or Aoko despite both Nakamori having chased Kid far longer than Saguru, and Kudo having only attended Kid heists sporadically in the last decade. Another examined the suspect profile Saguru had constructed, noting what little had been added to it since Saguru had left despite the years since then. It ended on an accusing note that maneuvered toward Saguru returning to the Kid task force. On the front page was a long article of Kid’s career. Saguru’s involvement in catching Kid took up a whole paragraph, longer than Kudo’s contributions.

Technically the one article was a callout to _all_ the detectives Kid had ever faced, not just Saguru. Saguru could see the logic in it—the drama. Kid had a long career and news about him was almost routine at this point. What better way to add shock and interest back into things than by calling all of Kid’s rivals back together? It wasn’t possible for Jirokichi—he had died a few years ago—and Nakamori senior was retired with health issues preventing him from returning. Kudo was always a favorite in the news, but he too was routine. Who better than Saguru, a seemingly long lost rival making a triumphant return, to add drama to the mix?

A callout didn’t mean anything; Saguru wasn’t required to respond to it. What bothered him was that he was in the public eye after years of trying not to be. He’d deliberately kept his public involvement in cases to a minimum, especially after he got married. And now someone was digging through his past and showing it to the world.

He set the paper down with shaking hands. It wasn’t really about him, it was about the papers wanting to sell a story. He knew that. Still. He knew that there would be some backlash to this. Public pressure. Other news companies jumping on the opportunity to play up a rivalry that hadn’t mattered in over a decade just because it made a good story.

The question was how they even knew Saguru was back in Japan. Aoko wouldn’t have mentioned it. Kuroba definitely wouldn’t. Saguru couldn’t see Shizume Erika mentioning it either; she had never been the type to talk about her students or former students too much. But then there were Saguru’s students and many of them could have learned about his past detective work to some extent through the grapevine. Hell, a particularly devoted Kid fan might be in one of his classes. Could one of them have said something?

It was ridiculous to worry about it. It could have been as simple as someone recognizing him on the streets. That wasn’t outside the realm of possibility even if it had been years since he was famous.

But Saguru couldn’t afford to think about this now. He had class to teach. Saguru put the paper aside.

***

Saguru finished outlining adverb-verb interaction on the board and turned to face his third class of the day. “Examples of this are—yes Tomoda-san?” he said, motioning for the girl in the back row who had been watching him write with a lot more attention that she usually gave to this class. Her hand was raised well above her head, unwavering.

“Hakuba-sensei, were you really a detective at one point?”

The question was one he’d been expecting since the article this morning, but that didn’t make him any happier to hear it. Saguru gripped the chalk almost hard enough to break it. “Tomoda-san, my life is not open to questions,” he said with a level, calm voice. “Now if anyone has any questions on the actual—”

“But were you?”Fujikata in the second row asked.

The entire class turned expectant eyes on him, including certain students that often dozed off by this point in the class period. He mentally cursed the newspaper that had run the articles. Clearly the rumor mill had been spreading in the last few hours.

“I was. But my previous occupation is not important to this English lesson.” He turned back to the board and continued on with the class as planned. It didn’t stop the whispers or yet another student asking more at the end of class. Saguru didn’t give them any more information than before, hurrying out the door as soon as he could.

Lunch brought several stares from coworkers, mostly just curious. Of course, most of his coworkers already knew that he had been a detective; Shizume had been open about Saguru’s past status as an Ekoda High School student and mentioned her memories of back then on more than one occasion. Now it was more than just one or two teachers remembering an old student. The media had gotten involved and as much as it bothered him, it was unsurprising that he would get a few stares. Kate at least talked to him like usual over her salad about her son and the upcoming vacation. Saguru was glad that these conversations tended to be mostly one sided because he could get away with being distracted by his thoughts.

The afternoon classes were full of staring eyes and the occasional hissed conversation. It was like he had become a spectacle all over again overnight. As he finished his desk work at the end of the day, he just wanted to get back to his apartment and hope that the press would be satisfied with what they’d dug up so far.

Unfortunately there was a reporter outside the school grounds when he left. He wasn’t very good at stealthy escapes these days.

“Hakuba Saguru, yes?” the woman said. She was a bit short, under the 158 cm average, but felt much taller in the firm way she stood. The tall heels did give her a few extra centimeters, just enough that she could get into Saguru’s face when she invaded his personal space. She continued speaking without giving him a chance to respond. “Your impressive case record proceeds you. Would you mind answering a few questions?”

Saguru took a step back if only to escape her cloud of vanilla-rose perfume. “I would mind very much,” he said, stepping around her.

The refusal didn’t faze her one bit as she followed alongside him. “You work at Ekoda High as an English teacher, correct? What brought you back to Japan after so many years?”

“No comment,” Saguru grunted.

“Do you consider yourself retired from detective work then?”

“No comment,” he repeated. If only he could sprint like he used to.

“Is there anything you will comment on?” the reporter said looking a bit irritated.

“I would appreciate being left alone.”

She pursed her lips. “Do you plan to attend the Kid heist?”

Saguru grit his teeth and committed to pretending she didn’t exist for the rest of the walk to the train station. The reporter asked questions the whole way there and likely would have followed him onto the train itself except that he managed to shove his way into a compartment too crowded for her to follow. When the doors closed behind him, he slumped against them for that extra bit of breathing space the action gave him.

Lovely. They’d found he was in Japan, they’d found his work, and Saguru could assume that it wouldn’t take very long for interested parties to find his apartment as well. Or perhaps they would try his family home first; it wouldn’t be surprising if the media thought he was living from home rather than renting out a postage stamp apartment.

***

Saguru wasn’t even surprised when he got back to his apartment and found Mum there. She knew, at least, how little he enjoyed the spotlight these days. She was waiting in a car, driving it herself for once, her hair pulled up in a messy tail high on her head. She got out of the car as he approached.

“Your father saw the paper,” Mum said, pulling Saguru into a hug. It was a lot harder to feel stressed with his mother hugging him. If he closed his eyes he could be back in London, Mum hugging him for any number of other reasons. “There was a reporter that tried to get through the gate too. I thought I should come and check on you.”

“There was a reporter outside of the school as well,” Saguru sighed. He pressed his face into her shoulder for a moment and released some of his tension.

“That’s unfortunate. Maybe talk to the administration? It’s bound to be distracting to students as well.” Mum patted his back. “Your father and I will handle anyone that tries to trespass on our property. Misdirect them a bit and make them think you’re living there for as long as they’ll buy it.”

Depending on what got leaked, that could be a short period of time.

“Are you alright?” Mum asked, holding him at arm’s length to study his face.

“Fine,” Saguru said, even managing a small smile. “Irritated by the breech in privacy and being called out because they want a better story, but they can’t force me into anything.” At least he hoped they couldn’t. It was surprising and annoying and tiring more than anything. “Hopefully it will end with that.”

Mum pursed her lips, not quite sure whether to take him at his word or not by the look on her face. “If you need to get away, you can come to the house. Or better yet, go on vacation. It’s almost that time anyway.”

“I can’t leave during the end of semester exams,” Saguru said. “I’m not going to avoid my job because of a bit of press.” He stepped away and nodded to the apartment. “Care to come in?”

Mum shook her head. “I can’t stay long. I have an appointment to get to, but I wanted to check in on you just in case.”

“Thank you.” It was funny how no matter how old he got, getting a hug from his Mum helped. Some things you didn’t outgrow it seemed.

She pulled him close again and held him for a moment. “Don’t hesitate to call if you need us. We’re both retired; it’s not like we have anything much going on that can’t be put off for another time.”

He knew that. He also knew that he still wouldn’t call unless it was a last resort, and from Mum’s heavy sigh, she also knew that.

“Go. Rest. Talk to the school and then see what your neighbor’s doing. I’m sure that would be a good pick me up,” Mum said.

“Kuroba won’t be back for hours.”

“Then that gives you time for tea and clearing your head.” She gave him a tight squeeze and pushed him in the direction of the stairs. “I’ll call you sometime tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mum.”

“Don’t use that tone,” Mum said, but she said it with a smile and Saguru had to smile back. “Love you,” she said as she got back into the car.

Saguru all but collapsed into his desk chair when he got inside, the bright red numbers of the desk clock saying it was only a little after five rather than much later as it felt. The vague notion that he should start dinner or perhaps get that cup of tea crossed his mind, but his phone went off in his pocket before he could do much more than consider it.

The number was one he hadn’t heard from in months. Saguru picked up the phone warily. “Hello?” he said, slipping back into English habits.

 _“Saguru, good, you picked up_ ,” Millard Colquhoun’s thick Scottish accent greeted his ears. Considering that Saguru had ignored the last three times he called, Millard had every right to be surprised that he had. It was a bit more surprising to get a call at all as Saguru thought he’d burned all his bridges with Millard after his fallout with the London police.

“Millard,” Saguru said, tone questioning. “It has been a while.”

 _“Too long. I thought to give you some space…”_ Millard cleared his throat. _“But I’m not calling to talk about how we left things.”_ His voice dropped down, serious and low like when he used to go over crime scenes with Saguru. “ _Had some calls come in recently. People asking around about you. I don’t know what you’re caught up in now, or how you ended up in Japan again, but I figured you should know. Most of us at the station wouldn’t spill your life. I know I still count you as a friend. You were one of us for years. Still, there’s some bad blood floating around with how you left. I can’t vouch for everyone keeping tight lipped.”_

“What sort of questions were they asking?” Saguru asked feeling tired.

_“About your detective work and personality, some. But they were fishing for what would’ve driven you to leave London for Japan.”_

A breath heaved from him. Of course they were. And Saguru had made enemies when he lashed out after Mel’s death, breaking protocols and stepping on toes trying to learn anything he could to solve the case and getting nowhere. “Thanks for calling. I appreciate not being blindsided by that.”

 _“What’re friends for?”_ Millard said in a wry way that implied he hoped he was still considered as such. _“…how’ve you been?”_

“Better than I was,” Saguru said honestly. “Japan is…better.”

 _“Good to hear.”_ It sounded like he meant it too.

Saguru debated whether or not to ask before deciding that he needed to know more than he needed to keep from reopening the issues between them. “I…I have to ask…the case…”

 _“Nothing new,_ ” Millard said, voice gentle. Of course he expected the question. Of course. Saguru hunched into the chair. “ _It’s officially a cold case. I’m sorry.”_

“I understand.” No leads so of course it would become a cold case. It had been more than a year. For a second the futility from months ago rose up, almost as harshly stinging as it had been fresh, but he left it drain back out as fast as it had come. He was half a world away. Ripping himself apart over it hadn’t worked the first time. He wouldn’t keep doing it. Sometimes, no matter how much you wanted something, no matter how much you tried and threw yourself at it, a case wasn’t solvable. It didn’t make it any less bitter. “Thank you.”

 _“I’ll keep my eyes and ears open,”_ his old friend said. There wasn’t any faith in him that it would do much good. “ _Keep safe in Japan, Saguru. Don’t be a stranger.”_

“…Same, Millard. Have a good day.” Saguru hung up the call. He didn’t want to think about the possible press stories that could come out of digging into his life in London. He didn’t want to think about the past either. Still, he felt…glad? Touched? Something complicated and positive at any rate, that Millard had thought to call. There was some guilt in there too since Saguru knew it was his own fault for ruining most of the relationships he’d spent years building in his depressed spiral a year ago. He slumped back into the chair and closed his eyes.

For a little bit, he tried not to feel or think at all.

***

Saguru never did talk to Kuroba that night; whatever Kuroba had going on, he didn’t get back while Saguru was awake, and by the time Saguru had left for work he was already gone. There were no reporters waiting at the school entrance that morning at least, be it from lack of interest or because of Saguru’s phone call to the school the night before, he didn’t know.

That morning’s paper brought an article on him as well, thankfully nowhere as large as the ones the day before. Its caption read “Detective Retired? Hakuba Saguru Returns to Japan to Teach English.” It must have been written by the woman who showed up the day before because it noted that he declined to comment when asked about his current career.

He balled up the paper and went into teaching class with the intention of ignoring the continued stares. He didn’t owe anyone a reaction or explanation.

The classes passed with less incident today, but with no less intense scrutiny. When he left for the day, he had three messages on his phone; one from Mum checking in, one from Kuroba early in the day commenting on the paper, and one from Hiroto from a little over an hour ago that Saguru almost didn’t check. He assumed it was one of Hiroto’s usual lighthearted comments or a random photo and he hadn’t been in the mood to dredge up a response. Instead, it was a request to call him.

Saguru looked at his phone wondering what that could be about. It was too blunt of a message to be anything but serious.

He called while he was waiting for the train. The call rang several times before Hiroto picked up.

“This is Saguru,” Saguru said.

“ _Saguru…”_ Hiroto sounded tired, and maybe like he had been sick or crying, a roughness to his voice that it usually didn’t have.

“Is something wrong?”

_“I’m so sorry.”_

“Excuse me?”

Saguru corrected his previous hypothesis to crying as Hiroto sniffed on the other end of the line. _“I’m sorry. I saw the paper. It’s all my fault.”_

“What?”

 _“The articles. It’s. They’re written by a friend. I didn’t realize…”_ Hiroto’s voice choked up. “ _I just showed her your picture. She recognized you. Said she used to be a fan. I didn’t think she would ever write something like…”_

“Oh.” That explained how he had been recognized. He felt detached, clinical in observations even as Hiroto continued to be distraught. He hadn’t realized Hiroto had any pictures, but that wasn’t something to be upset over. It was not Hiroto’s fault that his friend had written an article on Saguru or that she had recognized him. She must have been the woman at the school gate yesterday. The names on the articles matched up. Of all the ways the article could have come about, he would admit that he hadn’t expected it to come from Hiroto’s part in his life.

 _“I’m sorry,”_ Hiroto repeated. “ _And—”_ His words were cut off with the rush of the train’s arrival.

“What?”

_“I’m sorry for pushing about dating you. I didn’t realize…”_

Saguru didn’t hear anything else he said, reaching a whole different level of numbness. He heard himself say as if from far away, that he had to go. The call cut off with Hiroto still speaking as Saguru did a news search relating to himself. Two new online articles came up, one from a gossip magazine with the title, “Kid Affair—Hakuba Saguru and Kaitou Kid, Forbidden Love?” The other was titled “Tragic Truth, the Real Reason for British Detective’s Return.” Well. Millard had warned him.

He didn’t have to read the second article to know that Mel would be mentioned. As for the first… He almost wanted to laugh because he couldn’t say he never had interest in Kuroba or Kid, but it was hardly the scandalous doomed love affair the article no doubt painted the picture of.

He could practically see the next article title “Retired Detective Outed; Loses Job in Scandal.” Did they want him to attend the heist or were they trying to ruin his public reputation in its entirety? Japan was not kind toward those open about their sexuality. It was better than in years past, but it was still something that was, culturally, considered private. And Saguru wouldn’t deny it if he was asked because he wasn’t going to dismiss having spent years married to Mel now that it was in the open.

The train was about to leave. Saguru got on at last moment, still numb.

There was a real chance that he could be in trouble at work over this. He didn’t think that he would be fired, but talked to? That would most likely happen. Would the gossip article call into question his qualifications in chasing Kid? If so, would that mean that attending a heist would be detrimental? Or would attending a heist and being seen helping to catch Kid be the only way to counteract that social stigma? It seemed that the papers were intending to corner him by public opinion, give him no option but to attend a heist. He could see possible future articles that could print in the next week and a half to try and push him further.

His phone buzzed, and then kept buzzing, text messages accumulating throughout the train ride. He saw that they were from Hiroto and ignored them. It would be more apologies and Saguru wasn’t in the right mindset to handle that right now. By the time he reached the apartment, the numbness was fading away and anger was taking its place. Not at Hiroto—though it would be too easy to let it bleed over even if he knew that it was just bad luck. Association did that. But Saguru had more than enough to turn his anger on when it came to the media and the reporter that started this.

He banged his door open and Kuroba, who—of course—was sitting at Saguru’s desk, almost tipped the chair over in alarm.

“What the hell,” Kuroba said, eyes wide. He gripped the edge of Saguru’s desk, chair balanced precariously.

“I’m contemplating how likely it is to win a lawsuit for invasion of privacy,” Saguru said, glowering. “I’m afraid I’m not up to date on Japanese laws on public disclosure of private facts. Technically I can’t call libel because nothing written is actually false.”

“Uh.” Kuroba kept staring. Saguru tossed his phone toward him. Kuroba caught it and unlocked the screen. “What am I supposed to look at?”

“Articles in the web browser.”

“Ah.” There were a few seconds of silence, then a second, more meaningful, “ _Ah.”_

“Now do Japanese courts even recognize invasion of privacy in lawsuits? Because I know that seems to vary depending on where I am at any given place.”

“Uh. I know that laws on data protection keep getting strengthened and protection from third party information transfers. Haven’t had any reason to look into someone having their life story thrown to the media.” Kuroba set the phone aside. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay, because you’re not. Talk to me.”

“I am frustrated,” Saguru said, “because I am not sure how publically outing me works in the favor of forcing me into their little reunion that the press is pushing for with your upcoming heist. I’m angry because personal sensitive information has just been made public—things I am still not comfortable thinking about most days let alone talking about. I am upset because there is a very real chance that this could affect my professional life. I was open about my sexuality in London, but Japan is not the UK, and here I don’t have the same built up reputation and support that I once had.” Saguru found himself pacing, cane thumping hard against the floor as he walked. “I am finally getting comfortable here and damn if I am going to uproot again. I might not have ever intended to go into teaching English, but I would prefer to keep my job.”

“Your parents have good lawyers right?”

“Yes.”

“Call them.”

Saguru laughed, cold and sharp. “Oh, I intend to.”

When he passed by Kuroba again, Kuroba caught his free hand. “Hakuba.” Kuroba frowned. “Don’t let them get to you. Don’t confirm anything. It’s almost summer break, and if you need to, once it gets here just go somewhere private until it all blows over. The heist is just one night. The papers will move on.”

“I know,” Saguru said, sighing. “I know.” He allowed himself a moment of weakness, gripping Kuroba’s hand in return. “I suppose I’m out of practice being in the spotlight,” he said ruefully. “And it was never quite so personal.”

“I get that.”

Kid’s face forever being splashed across the front pages wasn’t quite the same level of personal in Saguru’s opinion. But then again, perhaps Kuroba did understand. Saguru didn’t know how deeply Kuroba did or did not take any of the things published about his alter ego.

“So,” Kuroba said, drawing the word out. “Apparently you had a passionate affair with Kaitou Kid years ago and the guilt from that eventually sent you back to London. Why wasn’t I aware of this?”

“Very funny,” Saguru said. He snatched his phone back. “At least no one is likely to take that article too seriously. It’s from a gossip rag.”

“Hakuba, people will take shit and run with it regardless of the source.”

Point. There had been a rumor that Kid was gay at one point all because of Aoko’s comment at a heist in high school. For an offhanded remark, it had been a resilient rumor.

Kuroba leaned back in the chair like he’d been doing when Saguru arrived. “I came over because I heard a reporter ambushed you at work, but this all sounds a lot worse than just some reporter looking for a statement or some hype over the heist.”

“The reporter that wrote up the first article was apparently a fan of mine,” Saguru said. “I’m not sure if she’s disillusioned or if she’s decided to force me out of retirement, but there’s likely some personal motive in the mix beyond wanting a good story. She was a friend of Hiroto’s apparently.”

“Well. That’s awkward.”

Saguru’s lips twitched, amused despite himself at the understatement. “Quite.” The bubbling anger was draining away, leaving familiar exhaustion in its place. He pulled away from Kuroba and sat at the kitchen table Mum had finally cajoled him into buying. “I need to call Mum, grade papers, and then brace myself for tomorrow’s fallout.” He paused. “And eat I suppose.”

“Good luck.” Kuroba stretched. “I’ll be busy, but if you need to talk more, I can always multitask.”

Saguru had half a dozen ideas on what sort of things Kuroba would be busy with a week and a half away from a major heist. Most of them didn’t seem like the sort of thing that should be interrupted if Kuroba wanted to get through his heist unscathed. “May your prep work go smoothly. And please, don’t tell me what you plan on doing.”

Kuroba smirked. “Even if I did, you wouldn’t be able to figure out how it was going to be used.”

“Shoo. Go do your illicit activities that I know nothing about.”

Kuroba snorted and waved a hand.

Saguru realized he was smiling. How Kuroba consistently managed to turn his mood around these days… He was a good friend. Then he remembered that Kuroba had been there before he even got home. “Was there anything you needed, Kuroba?”

“Hmm?” Kuroba said. “Oh, not really. It’s just nice to come home to someone sometimes, right?”

He was gone before Saguru could be entirely sure if that was the whole truth or not.

***

Saguru was not hearing most of the words coming from the vice principal’s mouth. He had tuned out the comments once it was clear that they were both homophobic and xenophobic in their own way. It was a shame to the school’s reputation to have a teacher on staff with such a bad history. So unfortunate for someone with family in such good social standing to have this happen. Clearly it was the Western influence. It was funny how Saguru was apparently Japanese enough for his public outing of his sexuality to be considered shameful considering all any of the papers and people in his day to day life seemed to put emphasis on the British half of his heritage. Never Japanese enough, but not foreign enough either for it to be dismissed as one more way that Westerners were different and to be looked down on from the supposedly superior position of the true Japanese everyman. Not that anyone ever would admit to this mentality. They probably wouldn’t have said a word if Saguru’s sexuality hadn’t been scattered across headlines though.

“We need employees of good moral character,” the vice principal was saying, or something along those lines. From the way morality and community obligation were being brought up, it was clear where this was leading.

There were two board members, the principal, and the vice principal in the room. Of the four of them, Saguru was convinced that the vice principal, and perhaps one board member, had sold out to the press. There wasn’t anything concrete to these suspicions. Perhaps the expensive watch on the board member’s wrist was too new—but no, not new enough because there was a scratch on the face of it, faint but visible when it reflected light. Or maybe it was the way he was side-eyed. Or the not very subtle lead in to duties to the community.

“Had my work as a teacher been unsatisfactory?” Saguru cut in, derailing the speech entirely.

The vice principal floundered. “Excuse me?”

Most people, Saguru suspected, wouldn’t interrupt a supposed superior during a dressing down. Saguru didn’t have the patience for this. “You’re upset that I am not what I appeared to be. Fine. Has my job performance been poor? Or is your only compunction my supposed moral character?”

“Your teaching ability,” one of the board members said, “was never in question. It is the example you are giving to impressionable young minds that is the current issue.”

Saguru marked him down as the next most likely to be in the press’s pocket. “And let me guess, in order to prove my moral standing, I will have to make an effort to show that I support school approved institutes.” He clenched his hand on his cane until his knuckles were white.

The remaining board member shifted like he would rather be anywhere but that room.

“You have to understand,” the vice principal said. “As both a teacher and an alumni of this school, you are representative of it and your actions reflect back on us. If you do not make an effort to improve by the start of the next semester, I am afraid that you will not be employed here any longer.”

Another issue for Mum’s lawyer to look into, Saguru thought bitterly. And some research on the legality of this would be happening in the near future. Play the good detective and all of this would vanish. Bastards. It couldn’t be _that_ good of a news story. Did they expect him to miraculously get married to a woman in the interim as well?

“Do you understand, Hakuba-san?”

Four pairs of eyes stared him down. Saguru pressed his lips together to keep from biting out words he’d regret. He took a breath and let it out slowly. “I understand,” he said.

“We hope to see your efforts in improving your character, Hakuba-san. It would be a pity to lose a passable teacher due to something so avoidable.”

 _Passable._ Saguru didn’t bow as he was dismissed. Rude though it was, it would hardly dig him into any deeper a hole than he already was. And it satisfied the petty part of him that longed to say what he really felt.

He’d missed his morning homeroom duties and a good chunk of his first class. When he entered the room the conversations stopped. Eyes followed him to the front of the room.

Saguru steeled himself and faced the class. Two and a half dozen faces looked at him with anything from curiosity and confusion to distaste and ridicule. Takumi was one of the few who looked concerned. He took a second to meet Takumi’s eyes in what was hopefully a reassuring manner. “I apologize for my lateness. Let’s make up for the time missed. If you would please turn in your texts to page fifty-seven?”

He’d faced murderers and armed men in the past. A school board and classrooms of students were not going to send him running.

***

There were several more articles after the school board gave their ultimatum, none of them as impacting or blunt as the former ones. If anything, his avoidance of any attempt at questioning seemed to irritate the reporter if her latest article was anything to go by. _One Time Detective Fails to Respond_. And the lack of comment was being turned into an attack now. Without any other new weapon, it wasn’t really a surprise.

The whole thing was frustrating and tiring, and what Saguru was turning up in his free moments of legal researching didn’t seem very promising, if only because everything that had been written about him was technically true. (Though he had some hope in the fact that it could be argued that the facts written were not actually all that newsworthy and written with the intent of defamation of his character, but he was leaving the details of that to the lawyer.)

If he agreed to attend the heist in four days, then he had the feeling that the majority of the commentary floating around would vanish. He’d keep his job and, while it would take a while for the reactions to die down, eventually life would go on without any lasting damage.

The only problem with that was that Saguru still had no desire to do so. The stubborn part of him wanted to dig his heels in, consequences be damned, because he hated being manipulated into anything, especially by underhanded means. Also, he had promised both Aoko and Kuroba that he wouldn’t be part of heists anymore. He didn’t want to go back on those promises.

Even with summer vacation two days away there was only so much work he could bury himself in in search of distraction from the issue.

He sat at his apartment desk, trying to read, but really listening to the summer rainstorm outside and the soft sound of voices next door where Takumi was visiting Kaito on one side and faint Jpop coming from the other neighbor. Saguru wasn’t much further than the third chapter of the newest literature club novel when Aoko came to pick Takumi up. Unlike the last time, it was civil, and it was a relief not to hear irritated voices or shouting.

When a knock came on his door a few minutes later, Saguru gave up on his novel. “Come in.”

“Hakuba.” Kuroba looked exhausted though he was hiding it. Dark smudges under his eyes from too many nights without enough sleep and the slight crease in his brow that reminded Saguru of the rare times that he had experienced tension headaches. These details were offset by a relaxed posture and a familiar smile.

“You look like you need to sleep for a week,” Saguru said.

Kuroba snorted. “Right back at you. Have you slept much in the last week?”

A few days plagued by nightmares early in the week right after the article that mentioned Mel and what nights he hadn’t had nightmares, his thoughts had been racing trying to decide the best course of action. “I’ve slept.”

“That makes one of us I guess.”

“How is Aoko?”

“Fine. Stressed. But who isn’t with such a big heist around the corner?” Kuroba settled into one of Saguru’s chairs like a cat; seemingly boneless but with that underlying predatory tension that said he could be up and away again in the blink of an eye. “I’m stressed, she’s stressed, you’re stressed…”

“Let’s just skip the whole occasion,” Saguru quipped.

“If only.” Kuroba rested his chin on his arms, in the chair back to front so he could support his torso against the back rest of the chair. “But no, I have too many awesome things planned; can’t cancel now. Think of how many fans I’d disappoint.”

His light tone sank between them. Saguru couldn’t pull himself into meeting it at the moment.

“Have you decided on what you’re going to do?” Kuroba asked when it became clear that Saguru wasn’t going to respond.

“There’s no good situation,” Saguru sighed. “I go somewhere and avoid the heist, I will likely be fired. I never thought I’d be teaching English in Japan, and I don’t know how long I want to be teaching here, but I do know I don’t want to stop at the moment. And if I do go to the heist, there is no guarantee that things turn out for the better.” He glanced out the window at the gray dreariness of the rain. Even the bits of greenery in view were drooping with the weight of water. “I hate to give in to outside pressure as well… It doesn’t sit well with me.” Saguru looked back at Kuroba. “I can’t decide what to do.”

Kuroba looked at Saguru for a long moment. The patter of rain against the window was the only sound filling the room between them as Kuroba held Saguru’s eyes with a serious look. Saguru just felt tired. Tired and worn and frustrated because he had as close to happy as he’d been in a year before this whole mess started. “Just go,” Kuroba said when the silence got too heavy. “You’re not the only one being pressed into coming to the heist. Kudo and Hattori Heiji and several other detectives from over the years will be there. If they could, I’m sure they’d be tracking down all the other foreign detectives who’d gone against Kid as well.”

“I said I wouldn’t chase you anymore,” Saguru said.

“And you don’t have to.” Kuroba rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, and he must be just as, if not more tired than Saguru was with this whole mess. After all, Kuroba had to live through every single one of Kid’s media frenzies. “Look,” he sighed, “They want you to be there. But once you’re there, no one can make you do anything. You’re retired. Go to the heist, sit back, and give vague answers if you’re asked questions. No big deal, right?”

No big deal. Saguru smiled wryly. It was a big deal or Kuroba wouldn’t be here trying to keep Saguru from stressing himself too much. Kuroba shouldn’t have to calm Saguru at all, especially not when he was probably just as stressed at the moment with all the effort that his double lives demanded from him.

“It’s not worth tearing yourself apart about,” Kuroba continued. “Go enjoy being just an observer for once.”

“Thank you, Kuroba,” Saguru said softly.

Kuroba waved his thanks away. “Don’t. Just try to stop stressing okay? I’ve been feeling stressed just watching you. This way the media can stop pushing and you’ll have everyone off your back.”

“Not everyone,” Saguru said thinking of Aoko. “I believe a certain task force inspector is going to be rather unhappy to see me.”

“Tell her to add it up to one more thing to be angry at me for. It’s not like Aoko has a shortage of those.” Kuroba reached out a hand that hesitated a fraction of a second before patting Saguru on the shoulder. “Once this heist is over, the hype should die back for a bit, and they’ll let you fade back to obscurity.”

“They had better.” Saguru glanced at the hand lingering on his shoulder. He’d never known Kuroba to hesitate in a physical action. Almost like he had started to do something else and changed his mind halfway.

Kuroba smiled and pulled his hand back. “So, now that that’s settled, we’re doing something fun as soon as summer break starts.”

“That would be two days before your heist.”

“I’ll be plenty prepared,” Kuroba said. “Besides, you’ll need to unwind, and I know Takumi will need it as well after exams. We always do something fun the first day of break.”

“If Takumi-kun doesn’t mind me being there…” Saguru said dubiously.

“He doesn’t,” Kuroba said. “I already asked. Shiemi-chan and Yuuto-kun might join us though, if you’re okay with that?”

“Of course.” Saguru wouldn’t tell Takumi that he couldn’t bring his friends.

“Perfect.”

Saguru couldn’t help still feeling a bit uncertain. “Kuroba, you don’t need to keep inviting me to do things that are—”

“Hakuba.” Kuroba held up a hand, stopping his words. “I’m inviting you because I want to. Not because I am worried, not because I feel I should. I’m doing something fun and thought you might have fun doing it too.” He raised an eyebrow. “What ever happened to all that confidence you had in high school? Back then you invited yourself along.”

“Back then, I had never faced a setback before Kid.” Why was it so hard to believe that Kuroba might actually want to spend time with him? It wasn’t hard to believe that Kuroba would want to talk like they were doing now, or hard to believe that they were friends at this point. But it was a friendship that made sense, full of shared secrets and understanding that couldn’t be found anywhere else. Kuroba hadn’t liked Saguru’s personality in high school, and back then Saguru had been frustrated by Kuroba, and somehow it didn’t feel like that would change even if it already had.

“Well you might want to try tapping into whatever state of mind you had back then because I’m going to keep inviting you to things.” Kuroba grinned. “And maybe you’ll invite me to do something someday.”

“Ah yes, that rare day when I actually decide I want to do something,” Saguru said.

Kuroba laughed, like Saguru had hoped he would. “When you do, I’ll look forward to it. Anyway, mark the day down. There will be no working on anything that day, just relaxation. Summer vacations are for fun and rest and we all need it.”

“That sounds…wonderful, actually.” If Saguru could keep his mind off his worries, that was.

“Yeah, I figured.” Kuroba stretched and made a show of checking the time. “Well, I should probably go. Get what sleep I can.”

“Goodnight, Kuroba.” Thank you, Saguru didn’t add. The gratitude was clear enough in his tone anyway.

Kuroba threw him a roguish grin and a quick wave. He let himself out much like he had let himself in earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ducks* Ok, so you guys knew conflict had to be coming right??? This is the shift toward most of the conflict being external rather than Saguru fighting his internal issues. He's found his comfort zone with people, time to have the world shaken a bit >_> This also might be the longest chapter in the story.... There's a bit more cute things before shit hits the fan completely, I swear.


	17. Chapter 17

Saguru had barely finished his morning cup of tea when there was Kuroba’s distinctive knock on his door. At eight thirty-four. They hadn’t discussed _when_ this outing was going to be, but considering Kuroba had stressed rest and relaxation in his speech about it, Saguru had been expecting him to be by a bit later. Well, he was dressed and didn’t need to take anything beyond his cane and his wallet.

“Yes?” Rather than Kuroba, Saguru found himself face to face with Momoi. She had her sharp grin on her face that had him half wanting to close the door in her face.

“Hakuba-sensei, you’d better be ready to go because we’re heading out!”

Saguru looked from Momoi to Kuroba a few steps behind her. Kuroba rolled his eyes. At his side, Takumi looked half asleep still along with his other friend, Himura Yuuto. If Saguru remembered correctly, Himura was also a member of the lacrosse team.

“Morning, Hakuba,” Kuroba said. “Someone,” he looked meaningfully at Momoi, “decided that we were going to have an early start.”

“You wanted to wait until eleven,” Momoi said. “If we waited that late all the best places at the beach will be filled up.”

“We’re going to a beach?” Saguru asked, mildly horrified at the thought—crowds, sand, and he didn’t even own a bathing suit, not that he would want to swim.

“We’re not going to a beach,” Kuroba said.

“Did you or did you not say we could go to the beach this summer?” Momoi said, one eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, sometime this summer.” Kuroba crossed his arms. “Beach trips take planning. You also need to give people a bit more warning to pack.”

Takumi yawned. “I told you it wasn’t going to fly.”

Momoi sighed. “Fine.”

Saguru and Kuroba both side eyed her. In Saguru’s brief acquaintanceship with her, she rarely backed down on anything she wanted.

“She has an itemized list of things to do,” Takumi said. “She made me read it out loud to her yesterday.” Another yawn and he added. “Fireworks were on there, what, four times?”

Kuroba laughed. “I’m sure we can manage fireworks. There has to be somewhere nearby that’s having some.”

“If there isn’t I want sparklers,” Momoi said.

“Done.”

Saguru hoped that it wouldn’t result in injury. Somehow he was stuck on the mental image of Kuroba juggling live sparkers. He’d done that once when they were in high school if Saguru remembered correctly, and had narrowly missed setting Aoko on fire when she startled him.

“Awesome.” Takumi slung an arm around each of his friends. Himura stumbled a little, throwing sideways looks at Saguru like he didn’t know how to act with a teacher present.

Hopefully he could relax or Saguru would feel rather guilty about agreeing to join the outing.

“Well,” Kuroba said, clasping his palms together. “We’re all here and mostly awake. Where to?”

“The park,” Momoi said instantly. “There’s a crepe stand there where we can get breakfast.”

“Ooh.” Takumi perked up at that. Himura laughed.

“You’ve already had breakfast,” Kuroba said, but he looked amused too. “All right, the park it is.” The kids cheered and Momoi led the way down the stairs listing off things that they were going to do with their day. If they managed to actually fit them all into a day, Saguru would be surprised. Kuroba watched them before glancing back at Saguru. “Sound okay to you? You’re not obligated to spend the whole day or anything. It sounds like they’re intending to have a marathon summer experience all in one day.”

“I’ll manage,” Saguru said. So long as no one actually expected him to run after them, things would work fine.

“We should hurry up before they get on the train without us.” Kuroba called after them, “Oi, wait up!”

“Stop being so slow!” Takumi called back.

“No respect,” Kuroba sighed. “Get a group of kids together and how do they act?”

“Like kids?” Saguru quipped.

Kuroba whapped him on the arm. “Just for that, I’m going to steal your second breakfast.”

“Ah, fewer calories that I didn’t need anyway. How tragic.”

Kuroba laughed. Saguru smiled to himself as they caught up to the others.

***

Momoi swarmed the crepe cart as soon as they arrived at the park, dragging Takumi and Himura along with her. Kuroba hung back to watch.

“When they first started walking,” he said, “I worried that Takumi was going to lead them into some kind of trouble. But then I quickly realized that Shiemi was the one to worry about. With Takumi we had to worry about him wandering off if something caught his eye. Once he was friends with Shiemi, we had to worry about them sneaking off on purpose on whatever quest they came up with that day.”

“It appears she still keeps things lively.”

“It’s one of the things I like about her,” Kuroba said with a smile that promised mischief. Yes, an adventurous attitude would be something Kuroba liked in a person. Saguru let himself be tugged along to the crepe stand, one of Kuroba’s hands latched onto his elbow. He could swear Momoi looked at them and smiled her card sharp smile. Saguru decided to pretend that she hadn’t because he was suddenly very clearly reminded of the conversation they had had after a recent literature club meeting.

“Kuroba-ji, I ordered you chocolate and cream,” Momoi said.

“You know me too well,” Kuroba said.

“Wasn’t sure what your tastes are, Hakuba-sensei.” She stepped to the side to let him place an order.

Not really hungry, Saguru supposed this would count toward lunch and get something savory. “Ham and cheese crepe please,” Saguru said. Momoi made a face behind him.

“Not something sweet?”

“It’s too early in the morning for sweets.”

“It’s never too early for sweets,” Kuroba said.

“You’re going to be diabetic by the time you’re forty,” Saguru said.

Kuroba stuck out his tongue.

The kids had all chosen things with cream or berries or chocolate, Saguru noted with amusement. Takumi’s first bite covered half his face in whipped cream. Kuroba dived into his crepe without spilling anything by some miracle. Saguru’s own crepe oozed cheese down the side of his hand as they walked. Ahead of them Takumi and Himura discussed lacrosse while Momoi tackled her chocolate strawberry crepe with single minded enjoyment.

It was nice. Not too hot or humid yet, with the soft sounds of guitar coming from where a music festival was setting up for the day.

“Bite?” Kuroba offered as he neared the end of his sugary treat. Saguru eyes the mess of whipped cream and melted chocolate. Why not? The rich taste of cream spread across his tongue, chased by bitter dark chocolate; it wasn’t quite as sweet as he had been expecting. Kuroba stole a bite of Saguru’s crepe in the process. “Not bad,” Kuroba said.

Saguru hummed in agreement. The bite Kuroba took from his crepe was very obvious. It was a little ridiculous to feel flustered by sharing bites of food at his age, wasn’t it? Saguru finished his crepe.

“You’ve got a bit of whipped cream on your face,” Momoi said to him. Saguru twitched, having not noticed her hanging back to walk next to them.

“Thank you.” He wiped it off.

She grinned. “Kuroba-ji—”

“No,” Kuroba said before she could say anything.

“I didn’t even—”

“Still no. I don’t have to know what you’re going to say, your expression tells me the answer will be no.”

Momoi sighed. “Well you’re no fun.” She watched Takumi acting out some sort of lacrosse motion to Himura. “Have any cards?”

A pack of regular playing cards appeared in Kuroba’s hand.

“Nice.” Momoi took them, shuffling them with ease. “I’m going to get that card trick you showed me down by the end of the day.”

“You can try.”

She kept the cards moving between her hands as they reached the music festival. It wasn’t fully set up yet, but there were already groups of musicians playing here and there, and a small amount of people coming and going between what booths were set up. Saguru found himself relaxing between the soft music and the rustle of leaves in a light breeze and the chatter of voices around him. Kuroba struck up a conversation with Momoi, showing her proper hand movements for the sleight of hand she was working on, and Takumi got dragged into it as well.

Saguru ended up standing to the side near an acoustic guitarist’s performance with Himura. Himura kept looking at him out of the side of his eyes while trying to pretend that he was paying attention to the musician.

“I don’t bite,” Saguru joked after a few minutes of this.

“It’s just a little weird,” Himura said, looking uncomfortable. “Takumi said you were sort of a family friend, but it’s different to actually see it. You’re different in class.”

“I’m a teacher in class,” Saguru said. “Outside of that, I’m just a person.” It was funny how hard it was for people to realize that sometimes. Teachers had their own lives outside of their professions like anyone else in the world.

Himura glanced at him again. “Shiemi-chan says you like Sherlock Holmes?”

The way he said it made it clear that he was editing her words to a more diplomatic phrasing. Saguru smiled. “I do. Are you also a fan?”

The next half hour of wandering was filled with a pleasant discussion about the Robert Downey Jr. films as they compared to the original Doyle works. By the end of the conversation, Saguru was relieved to see that Himura no longer looked uncomfortable about Saguru’s presence. By then, though, Saguru’s leg was getting tired, so they moved a bit away from the music festival to sit.

Kuroba produced a Frisbee from somewhere and the kids dashed off to use it while Saguru and Kuroba took a seat on a bench.

“Having fun, Mr. Holmes otaku?” Kuroba teased. He had taken the pack of cards back from Momoi for the moment and let his hands play with them as they wanted. Cards arced in a bridge, flashing glimpses of their red and black numbered faces.

“I am actually.” It had been a while since he went out to do something without an exacting itinerary or goal in mind. And there hadn’t been anyone staring him down or following him around by some miracle. It was almost possible to forget that today was a brief break between the stress of the media and work and the upcoming Kid heist.

Kuroba didn’t look like he had been spending his nights with barely any sleep in preparation for the 200th Kid heist. Right now at least, his face was relaxed and happy, faint smile lines bunched around his eyes as he watched Takumi dive to catch the Frisbee and send it spinning with perfect accuracy to Momoi’s hands. It was a wonder how he could turn off the background thoughts and enjoy the moment like this. Saguru envied that ability a bit. He was enjoying himself, but reality was never far off in his thoughts. It was something like a miracle that they hadn’t run into any reporters.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, almost ignorable. He checked it out of habit because it might be Mum. Hiroto’s name on the message had him pursing his lips. _Are you okay?_ He’d had a message of some variation of that theme from Hiroto every day for the last week, and Saguru didn’t know how to respond to them when it was something more complicated than okay or not okay. He didn’t bother responding to this one, just tucked his phone away again.

“I take it there’s not going to be any more dates in the future,” Kuroba said, a wry twist to his lips as he guessed the message’s sender. The cards in his hands fanned and flipped independent of his conscious attention.

“Most likely not, no.” It made him feel a bit sad, not for the loss of the romantic aspect of the relationship in his life but because he wasn’t quite sure how to fix the strain to the friendship that had been forming between them. Hiroto clearly still felt guilty regardless that Saguru didn’t blame him, and Saguru was too strained from dealing with the fallout to keep reassuring him that things would be fine when Saguru wasn’t sure they would be. “It wasn’t a serious relationship anyway.”

Kuroba raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not upset over it,” Saguru said firmly.

“Not indifferent to it either,” Kuroba said. He held out the cards. They stared each other down until Saguru took one. Ace of hearts. It went back in the deck as Kuroba shuffled it. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I’ve had some really sucky dates over the years and even when I didn’t expect anything to come out of it, it’s still a little disappointing.”

“Of course it is a little disappointing.” Who wanted to waste time over a social interaction that they would be uncomfortable in or regret later? “I am uncertain if I will be able to keep him as a friend,” Saguru finally offered.

The cards vanished. It was incredibly irritating that Saguru couldn’t tell how Kuroba pulled that one off. “Give it time?”

“I intend to.” A dozen meters away, Takumi and Himura collided trying to get the Frisbee. Their game had turned into some sort of keep away with Takumi in the middle.

“If you feel the need to hang out, there’s always me,” Kuroba said lightly.

“Yes, with our busy schedules.”

Kuroba snorted. “You’re only as busy as you let yourself be. I made time for this. I can make time for other things too. And,” he said, “you have no excuse right now. You’re on break.”

Fair enough. Kuroba lounged back against the bench, his elbow bumping into Saguru’s shoulders companionably.

“Ace of hearts, huh?”

When Saguru glanced back at Kuroba, he had the card Saguru chose earlier twirling between his fingers.

“Maybe you’ll have luck soon in matters of the heart.”

“Really, Kuroba?”

Kuroba shrugged. “You never know.” He slid the card into Saguru’s shirt pocket. It was only in Saguru’s head that his hand lingered a second longer than needed. They went back to watching the kids play and Saguru shoved all the things he didn’t want to think about away to focus on the way the sunlight filtered through the trees. It was getting hot now, turning into a proper July day with all the discomforts that came with that. Thankfully they were in the shade. He closed his eyes and listened to the nearby music and Momoi’s cackle of laughter.

***

Lunch was at one of the food stalls surrounding the music festival— _takoyaki_ and _yakisoba_ , all fried food with far too many calories, but the perfect festival food. Saguru was still mostly full from the crepe so he stole a few of Kuroba’s _takoyaki_. Then Momoi saw an ice cream stand and dragged them all to it. Kuroba got a chocolate cone and Saguru caved and got a small vanilla cone. This had Momoi laughing and Takumi sighing. Saguru ignored this like he was determined to ignore every insinuation Momoi seemed driven to make.

“It’s a vacation,” Kuroba said with a shrug as he ate his ice cream. “If there’s any time to get junk food it’s now.”

“Point,” Saguru said, licking drips off his cone.

“There’s an open air market a bit away,” Momoi said, looking at her phone in one hand, a cone of black cherry ice cream in the other. “We should go.”

“You don’t even like shopping,” Takumi said. His strawberry ice cream scoop slowly melted onto his chocolate scoop.

“I like window shopping,” Momoi said. “Besides, I need to find a birthday gift for my mom.”

Himura held up his hands. He’d gotten a bowl of sorbet instead of ice cream and had the least amount of sticky residue on him in result. “So long as no one expects me to carry things, I’m good.”

They looked at Kuroba, who looked at Saguru. “I suppose looking at a market could be fun.” He did have Mum’s birthday coming up. Maybe something gardening related…?

“Shopping it is,” Kuroba said.

“Great.” Momoi linked arms with the boys. “Be my extra eyes, we’re looking for something floral or indispensably useful.”

As they reached the correct street, they were quickly surrounded by the crowd. Saguru kept half an eye on the eclectic mix of things being sold—handicrafts alongside kitchenware and cheap knickknacks painted bright, eye catching colors. Momoi gave stands a glance and powered past the ones that were of no interest before stopping for long chunks of time at ones that looked more promising. Saguru followed at a more sedate pace, Kuroba at his side, keeping the children in sight distance.

They paused at a booth with metal markers that Saguru could see Mum possibly using in her garden. Momoi was at a stand selling floral embroidery.

“What do you think of this?” Kuroba held up a garden ornament in the shape of a bird. It would have been pretty if the metal hadn’t been tinted nearly fuchsia.

“Too bright. If it were a natural green…”

“Hmm.”

The markers weren’t quite what he was looking for, Saguru decided. He glanced at the children; they’d moved on without buying anything embroidered. “I’ve been wondering, how did Momoi-chan and Takumi-kun meet anyway?” Himura was understandable. They both played the same sport and were in the same year. Momoi on the other hand was both a year ahead in age and school.

“Momoi Keiko’s her mom,” Kuroba said, like that explained everything. It took Saguru a second to connect the name to the family pictures of Aoko and Keiko with babies, and the high school classmate he barely remembered to her strong-willed daughter.

He almost stumbled into the path of another shopper as he stopped walking. “Wait. _Keiko_. As in Aoko-san’s best friend, Keiko? I’d had the passing thought but...they’re nothing alike.”

“Yes?” Kuroba’s lips twitched like he was trying not to laugh.

“ _How?_ ” When? Considering their ages, Momoi Keiko would have gotten pregnant before Aoko and she had never seemed the sort to even be interested in dating let alone… Saguru shook his head. Those thoughts were rather narrow minded and full of assumptions, and it truly wasn’t any of his business anyway.

“The how is a bit more personal than I’m going to say, but Shiemi’s only a little less than half a year older than Takumi,” Kuroba said. “Keiko was due a month or so before Aoko, but Shiemi was born pretty early, and Takumi was born a bit late, and when it came down to it, Shiemi met the cut-off date for school and Takumi didn’t. They grew up together.”

“I see.” In truth, he hadn’t thought about his other classmates much after he left Japan. Kuroba, of course—he couldn’t help but think about Kuroba—Aoko, more due to her relation to Kuroba, on rare occasions their teacher or Koizumi because they had stood out in his memory… It was almost embarrassing that he hadn’t thought what happened to the others at all. “Keiko-san and Aoko-san are still friends then?”

“Yeah. They meet up every week or so and get drinks. Two ladies raising kids mostly on their own.” There was a small smile on Kuroba’s face, both respectful and wistful at the same time. “Keiko changed a lot after she had Shiemi. She’s a little scary these days actually. We’re not on the best terms. Understandably.”

“Understandably.” Saguru stopped and bent over a pile of t-shirts more for something to distract himself with than because he was actually interested. There was an awkward pause for a few minutes as they moved on. There wasn’t really any right thing to say when one was reeling over the shock of half conceived impressions from decades ago being smashed to bit. Nothing that he wouldn’t regret at any rate. Searching for something to redirect with, his eyes landed on a booth two booths ahead of them. “Well then.”

“What?” Kuroba followed his gaze before lifting one eyebrow. The entire booth was dedicated to Kaitou Kid fan merchandise. This included a special ‘limited printing’ 200th heist shirt, posters made from photos taken during actual heists, and uncomfortably accurately sized body pillows. The sign in front proudly proclaimed it to be the official Kid fan club merchandiser. “Well,” Kuroba echoed. “That sure is a lot of Kid’s face in one place.”

“I’m torn between wanting to make a comment about how teenage you would be full of narcissistic pride, and enquiring about if they’ve gotten permission to use Kid’s face in the market.”

“It’s just about impossible to control use of Kid’s motifs these days,” Kuroba said. In a lighter voice that sounded completely fake he added, “Aoko would love to arrest each and every person selling them on the grounds that they could be collaborating with a criminal, but at this point there are more Kid fans than there are police officers in Japan.”

“I’m tempted to get one of the bookmarks they’re selling and see how long it takes people to notice.”

Kuroba snickered. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that keychain you got a while back. I never knew you were a secret Kid fan, Hakuba,” he said with over the top batting of his eyes.

“Well I have always had a deep interest in all things relating to him,” Saguru said with a straight face.

Kuroba laughed again. “You’re starting to sound like a stalker again.”

“I don’t need to be a stalker. I already know where you sleep.”

“Now if I didn’t know this was your warped sense of humor, I’d be creeped out.”

Saguru let himself smile as Kuroba tugged him toward a new table, this one selling interestingly arranged potted succulents. “Well you know where I sleep too, so it evens the field a bit.”

“Does your mom have succulents?” Kuroba picked up a tiny pot with a bluish rosette shaped succulent.

“A few. She leans toward leafier plants most of the time.” Some of the pots were rather striking though, and he could see Mum enjoying them. “I admit that I’m not as familiar with them as some plants.” He was fairly sure that he could identify the aloe vera correctly. “Although I hesitate to buy a plant if we’re going to be carrying it around for the rest of the day.”

“Something to keep in mind.”

Plans to come back another day were solidified when he examined some of the striking color variations that the plants had. Yes, this was definitely something Mum would like. While Saguru talked to the stall owner about possibly reserving one of the pots, Kuroba went and checked in with the others. By the time Saguru was done, they were a good dozen or so stalls away and Momoi had a bag in hand. Takumi also had a bag, and that turned out to be sparklers.

By the time they made it back to the park and took another rest for his leg, it was well into evening and the music festival was well under way with vendors selling wares like a street fair. Kuroba brought back more fair food to share as they rested and waited for the sun to go down.

For a short while close to dusk, Saguru sat alone with their bags as Kuroba and the kids found a few stalls with games to play. Saguru smiled to himself, seeing Kuroba flinch away from one stall in particular and knew it had to be a goldfish game.

There were a large number of people milling around and the overlapping sounds of music had died off for the main performance of the night. It was some rock group Saguru didn’t recognize, with heavy drum beats that he could feel through his whole body. It sounded like something Aoko would have liked in high school.

While he waited, he pulled out his phone. No new messages, just the unanswered message from Hiroto. For the moment he felt like he could answer it. He sent off a brief message that he was fine at the moment and spending time with a friend. Hiroto would likely guess that meant Kuroba; Saguru didn’t care what he took from that though. He turned his phone off after he sent the message. The rest of the evening would be in the moment.

Despite the walking and standing, his leg was barely bothering him at all for once.

Night had finally descended when the others returned. Himura had a goldfish in a plastic bag and Kuroba kept both Takumi and Momoi between him and Himura’s prize.

“Congrats,” Saguru said, nodding at the fish.

Himura grinned. “Kuroba-ji practically teleported into the mask stand when I showed him.”

“You’re all horrible,” Kuroba said.

“When were the fireworks supposed to start?” Takumi asked.

Momoi had her phone out. “Soon. C’mon, there’s a better spot to view them…”

“You hear the lady,” Kuroba said, offering Saguru a hand up. Saguru took it gladly. Momoi led them toward the lake in the center of the park where there would be fewer trees to block the view. They were almost there when the first firework went up. The bright flash of color and echoing explosion had them stopping to stare.

“We’re going to miss the best vantage point!” Momoi gasped in the hush that followed. She grabbed her friends and dragged them at a much faster pace.

Saguru didn’t bother trying to keep up, watching as a bright green firework bloomed overhead. He could feel the reverberation of it in his body. Even with Tokyo’s light pollution, the fireworks were bright and beautiful, one after another. He almost forgot Kuroba’s presence entirely until a hand on his elbow moved him around debris on the ground that he had missed as he stared at the sky. “I haven’t seen fireworks in years,” Saguru admitted between booms.

“Yeah?”

“On television, yes. In person?” He never attended any events that would have them.

“Well now you have. Good call by Shiemi.”

They didn’t say any more as they finally joined the kids at the water side. The reflections added to the experience. The juddering cacophony of explosions of the finale were inexplicably cathartic.

“Well,” Momoi said after the last reverberations had faded into silence. “I think that was one of the best ideas I’ve ever had.”

“Definitely fun,” Kuroba said, ruffling her hair. She ducked away and held out a demanding hand.

“Cards. I think I’m pumped enough to pull off that trick now.” When she took the deck, Saguru remembered the card in his pocket.

“You might need this, unless it’s a different deck?”

Momoi took it and grinned. “Ace of hearts, huh?”

Almost in synch, both he and Kuroba gave her unimpressed looks. Perhaps she’d shared her opinion on their relationship with Kuroba as well.

“Fine, fine.” The cards arced in her hands almost as smoothly as they did for Kuroba. She pulled off a complicated maneuver with her hands that showed off the faces of the cards before shuffling again. “Himura, pick a card.”

With a long suffering look, he did, and Momoi proceeded to do a trick where no matter how much she shuffled, the card he picked was always at the top of the deck. Both Kuroba and Takumi had smiles when she was done.

“Masterfully played,” Kuroba said as she returned the cards.

“Told you I’d get it right.”

“It’s actually pretty hard to do,” Takumi said to Saguru as Momoi and Kuroba discussed how to further refine it. “You have to have really quick hands.”

“Palming and double lifts, correct?” Saguru said. He’d looked up quite a large number of sleight of hand tricks in high school.

Takumi pursed his lips. “Don’t pick it apart; that takes all the fun out of watching.”

“Detectives are critics,” Kuroba said, but he was cheerful about it rather than irritated like he’d been in school.

“To be fair, I usually don’t bother trying to figure them out most of the time anymore.” Although some of Kuroba’s tricks made for enjoyable mental exercises because they seemed so impossible.

“And with that,” Kuroba said, “it’s time to be heading home, kiddos.”

“But we haven’t done the sparklers yet,” Takumi said, holding up the bag.

Kuroba hesitated for a split second, Saguru only catching it because he was always watching Kuroba’s body language for what clues it would give behind his masks. “Well we’ll do them back at the apartment and your friends can stay the night.”

“Really?” All three teenagers stared.

“Yup,” Kuroba said like it wasn’t out of the ordinary to let people stay over. “Hakuba, want to join the slumber party?”

“I think I will decline,” Saguru said. He couldn’t tell if Kuroba had been teasing or not with that offer. “Besides, I live next door, that’s close enough.”

A half an hour later found him sitting in one of Kuroba’s chairs, watching Momoi and Himura chase Takumi with sparklers around the landing. A bucket of water with used sparklers was at Saguru’s side. Kuroba had a sparkler of his own, absently tracing bright shapes through the dark. The events of the day left Saguru languid and on the edge of dozing off. He should just go to bed, but if he left, the day would be over and the temporary reprieve would vanish with it.

“Thank you,” Saguru said.

Kuroba shrugged his thanks away. “I’m glad you came. Otherwise I’d have been the odd one out.”

Unlikely; Kuroba had a way of fitting wherever he went. He could have easily fit into Takumi’s friend group for the entire day, but he’d chosen to hang back with Saguru instead.

“You probably won’t see me tomorrow,” Kuroba said. “I’m going to be busy up to the heist.” A reminder, unwelcome, but necessary.

“Good luck.” _Be careful_ , Saguru didn’t add. There’d been too many injuries lately.

The sparkler in Kuroba’s hand fizzled out. He tossed it in the bucket. “Lady Luck has been on my side so far. I’ll have to keep courting her.”

The image of Kuroba sending roses to a temple of all things popped into Saguru’s head. He should definitely go to bed.

Kuroba’s callused fingertips pushed hair back from Saguru’s forehead. He opened eyes he didn’t remember closing to see Kuroba crouched in front of him with a fond smile on his face. “Go to sleep, Hakuba. In your bed, not one of my kitchen chairs. I could try to carry you to your futon as you’re sleeping, but I don’t think that’d go well.”

“I weigh a good fifteen kilograms more than you at least. You’d drop me.”

“I’m more muscular than I look you know.”

Saguru gave Kuroba a slow once over. No, he had a pretty good idea just how much muscle lurked under the carefully baggy clothing Kuroba preferred. He’d felt the firmness beneath them and had plenty of imagination to picture the rest. “I’m sure you’re wonderfully fit,” he said, “but carrying a grown man larger than you would still be a strain.”

Kuroba blinked at him and pulled his hand away. He cleared his throat. “Right, which is why you’re going to bed and I’m not testing my weight limit for deadlifts.”

The sputter and hiss of sparklers and the kids’ laughter was further away now; they’d gone down the stairs to take advantage of the parking lot’s larger space. In the dark, lit by one street lamp and a handful of sparklers, they were a mix of shadows and gangly teenage limbs. Saguru heaved himself to his feet even though every bit of him protested the movement. His back cracked as he stood straight.

Kuroba snickered. “You sound like an old man.”

“I embrace that statement.” He turned away. “Good night, Kuroba.”

“Night, Hakuba. See you in a few days.”

Saguru tottered back to his room and all but fell into his futon, not bothering to change out of his clothes. He fell asleep to the sound of Momoi and Takumi challenging Kuroba to a sparkler duel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Return of shipper Shiemi. Kaito and Saguru simultaneously "Stop." (Shiemi: ok, but is there anything more romantic than fireworks?? *coughs up shoujo cliches*) ^_^;; A cute fluffy bit here because as you can already tell, things are gearing up to get serious. It's summer for the characters now and things are moving forward.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is where Detective Conan characters start showing up at least a little bit.

The heist was held in Beika, practically in Kudo’s back yard. Saguru was less familiar with Beika’s museums although due to Suzuki Jirokichi’s obsession with challenging Kid, he had spent time in the Beika area before. Once upon a time it would have felt like stepping into a well versed role, returning to a Kid heist like this. Tonight, however, it only emphasized how much he didn’t fit in here anymore. There were police officers from all over Japan, drawn together for the sole purpose of outsmarting Kid. Saguru hung back from the chaos. He could make out Kudo examining Kid’s target on a stand, and Aoko as she coordinated the groups of officers, making sure everyone knew what their part was and minimizing the interdepartmental conflicts.

He could even make out Hattori Heiji. He’d never liked the man much due to personality clashes, but he couldn’t deny that he was a good detective in his own right. Hattori was with a group of officers most likely brought in from Osaka, arguing with a woman over something written on a paper he held. There were other detectives here as well, a man he vaguely remembered from a few heists, the infamous Sleeping Kogoro who looked too old to be caught up in all of this and almost as out of place as Saguru felt, a woman with short hair, and possibly more.

The reporters at least couldn’t get too close. Aoko had kicked them outside the police perimeter half an hour ago because they were disrupting the preparations too much. They’d pounced on Saguru when he arrived, so at least he could be sure that the school would have proof he’d attended the heist.

“Hakuba-san,” a voice said. Kudo approached, pulling Saguru out of his thoughts.

“Kudo-san.” Kudo held out his hand for a Western handshake and Saguru met it. Kudo’s grip was firm and his gaze as sharp as Saguru could remember from the brief moments the two of them had met before.

“It’s been a long time,” Kudo said. He looked back over the museum. Saguru followed his gaze. There were a multitude of cameras and sensors that Saguru knew each had separate power grids and backup generators attached. The target itself, an almost unassuming uncut ruby set into a Mesopotamian necklace, had been surrounded by traps and an electrified pedestal. Everything that could be tried against Kid probably had been done before; they’d taken to doubling or tripling the methods that had tripped him up or slowed him down in the past. There were rotating patrols that stuck with their source division so that there would be no unknown faces among them and have the best cooperation. Searchlights covered the sky and a thorough search perimeter kept people from crossing into the museum. Saguru knew that Aoko even had officers stationed in nearby buildings in the hopes of discouraging any potential snipers. Outside the perimeter were hordes of Kid fans. Not even the increased dangers of heists over the years had discouraged their enthusiasm.

“What do you think?” Kudo said.

“I think Kid is going to have to work hard to reach his prize,” Saguru said. “Although it seems unwise to have so many people from around Japan attending; Kid has always thrived through impersonations, with so many unfamiliar faces it will be much easier for him to get away with wearing someone’s face.”

“That was Nakamori-keibu’s opinion as well,” Kudo said. It took a beat for Saguru to realize that he meant Aoko and not her father, the dissonance of the title sitting oddly in his mind even if he knew that she was the inspector now. It was also odd that she went by Nakamori in her police work when Saguru was fairly certain she had kept Kuroba’s last name, if the name plate on her house was anything to go by.

There was a loud yell and Saguru frowned at Hattori as he and the woman he’d been arguing with got in a shouting match.

Kudo sighed. “I’m not sure why they’re both here.”

“Both? Hattori I am familiar with,” Saguru said, dry tone implying he would rather he wasn’t, “but not whoever he is speaking with.”

“Hattori Kazuha,” Kudo said, equally dry, but with none of the distaste Saguru held. Kudo was friends with Hattori if Saguru remembered correctly… “She’s Heiji’s wife. They’re on the outs again at the moment though.” Saguru raised an eyebrow and Kudo shrugged. “They’re hot and cold sort of people.”

“…I see.” That couldn’t be healthy.

“It works for them.” Kudo nodded toward where the detectives were starting to congregate around Aoko. “Join in the pre-heist analysis?”

“Of course.”

Kudo gave him a friendly smile. “Good to have you, even if it’s not the best circumstances.”

Saguru felt a bit bad for all those times he’d thought uncharitable thoughts about Kudo in the past. He wasn’t too bad.

The detective huddle had more people than Saguru was used to, including Hattori though thankfully he’d lowered the volume on his argument to barely audible hisses and grumbles at the edge of the group. Aoko looked around the circle and Saguru felt her eyes land on him. She frowned deeper than she had already been frowning. “Hakuba.”

“Nakamori-keibu,” he said in a neutral voice; this was not the time for familiarity. 

She gave him another hard stare, no doubt over his broken promise, before continuing her sweep of the people around her.

“As all of you know, tonight’s target is Tiamut’s Hope. This is the first time this thing’s being showcased to the world, so let’s do our best to keep it safe.” A Mesopotamian necklace of uncertain age and origins found recently in a Greek dig, of all places. Its name was callback to both Greek and Mesopotamian mythology due to the almost cult-like setup that had been found around the stone and the single body buried with it. Saguru wasn’t surprised that it was Kuroba’s target; it fit too well under his parameters. “You all know what we have set up to stop Kid, now I want you to turn your heads toward what ways he’d get past it.”

“There’s too many people,” Hattori said at once, and it was off from there, one weakness pointed out and a plan made to cover it, pin balling back and forth.

Saguru held back any observations he had. Most of them were covered by the others anyway, but he it would feel like a betrayal to Kuroba to actively help plan how to catch him these days. There was discussion of how Kid would escape if he got the stone, but despite many good points made, Saguru couldn’t shake the feeling that Kuroba would choose the glider today. The wind was steady but it was a cloudy night. All the more perfect to blend in to once he was airborne. It had been years since he last attended a heist though. Saguru didn’t know what to expect. Kuroba always strove to do the unexpected. How he had kept people guessing for almost two decades was a testament to his brilliance, and that the combined best minds around Saguru now hadn’t caught him only emphasized that fact.

The discussion broke with Aoko sending people off to different posts to best handle the problem areas they’d identified. When she got to Saguru, she stopped again.

“I promised to stay out of heists,” Saguru said. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t being forced into it. I am retired after all.”

“You better keep the rest of your promise,” Aoko said shortly. Kuroba remained hers to catch; it wouldn’t be Saguru who interfered with that. “I understand that you didn’t have much choice being here, but if you’re not getting involved, go watch the cameras and stay out of the way. That should be enough to give a show of joining in.”

“I will do that then.” He nodded to her and watched her center herself. He could only imagine what it must be like to throw herself into hunting the man she once loved—and still did even if the hurt and anger were stronger—month after month. Saguru couldn’t have done it.

It was a bit weird to be staring at black and white monitors instead of being in the thick of things. It wasn’t unfamiliar; he’d had plenty of cases where he’s spent hours in surveillance, but for a Kid heist? He’d always been as close to the action as possible. If not near the target, then in Kid’s path waiting to trip him up. Now he hoped Kid would escape. Looking at the sheer number of things being used against him, it seemed like it would take a small miracle for that to be possible. But he really truly hoped.

The clock ticked down toward Kid’s stated time. Saguru watched the monitors for any sign of something out of the ordinary. Kudo was near the target. Hattori on the second floor of the museum near a stairwell. Aoko on the main floor with the target. One of the unknown detectives out near the outer perimeter— Saguru frowned at the monitor. He’d almost thought he saw… Yes, there it was again, a familiar shape on the edge of the screen, barely sliding past the camera’s near blind spots. He waited for it to appear again and this time the figure couldn’t avoid the camera as well.

It was like high school all over again, Kuroba’s appearance and all. Only it was the wrong Kuroba on the screen.

***

Aoko was going to pitch a fit if she realized her son had successfully gotten past the police perimeter and into the heist proper. Actually, Kuroba would probably join her.

Saguru slid away from the monitors, calculating the route Takumi would most likely take. The only person who noticed him leave was the officer guarding the door. He’d have to point out that security flaw to Aoko at some point; hyper focus on the monitors was open invitation for Kid to infiltrate the room.

Saguru caught up to Takumi right as he was trying to get into the museum, lock picks in hand as he took advantage of a brief gap in the guard rotations.

“You know,” Saguru said, “the camera covers this spot and the door has three different alarms armed at various points along it.”

Takumi dropped the picks, slamming back against the door. “Holy shit when did you get there?!”

“Just moments after you got here from the looks of it.” Saguru picked up the dropped picks. All handmade from bits of scrap metal and wires. Impressive. Also something Aoko no doubt would disapprove of on principle. “What are you doing here, Takumi-kun?”

Takumi straightened, shoulder squaring. The stubborn jut of his jaw was all Aoko even if he still resembled Kuroba more than not. “I wanted to watch the heist.”

“I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of watching the heist from behind the police line. Or better yet, on home on your TV.”

“I want to see it firsthand!” Takumi waved a hand at the building behind him. “Kaa-san has spent half my life chasing after Kid and I’ve never even gotten to see what goes on behind the scenes. For some reason this 200th heist has both Kaa-san and Tou-san acting more stressed than normal and I want to know why.”

“So you came to the heist as clearly that isn’t going to have any negative repercussions if you got caught,” Saguru said.

Takumi flushed, hands balling into fists and teeth gritted together. “Look, I get it, it’s stupid and impulsive. I still want to know!”

Saguru shook his head, glancing at his wrist watch. Barely any time now… “Regardless of what you want, you can’t be here. If Aoko sees you on those tapes, she’s going to have a meltdown and she can’t afford to be distracted right now.”

“Maybe I could help? I mean I got this far didn’t I? And Kid’s a showman; maybe a magician’s perspective—”

Saguru caught Takumi’s wrist and started pulling. Takumi was too startled to drag his heels in, stumbling after Saguru wide eyed. “That wouldn’t work,” Saguru said, keeping calm. There was too big of a gap, the next police group should have been there, but they weren’t. Kid or someone else? “Your father was brought on a few times as a consultant for that reason and no progress was made. No offense, but he is more of a showman than you are.” Takumi sputtered, trying to pull away now, but Saguru’s grip was firm. “You got this far because something has happened to the guard pattern and luck. We’re not pushing that luck any further.”

Takumi yanked hard, almost dragging Saguru to a stop. “It’s not like I’m going after Kid! I just want to see what a heist is like!”

Saguru stopped. “Look, heists are not safe. No matter what hype they get, the injury rate increases every year. I know for a fact that your parents have kept you as far from this as possible for your own safety.”

“I know the incident rates! That’s all the more reason why—”

They froze as all lights in the area cut out. Saguru counted, waiting for the backup generators. A few lights flickered and died again, only one or two in the distance running as they should. “The generators were tampered with…” Kid or not Kid? Most likely Kid, it fit his tactics. “Come on, we need to go. The heist is in progress.”

“What? Already?” Takumi hopped a few steps after Saguru. As they spoke, Kuroba was probably already in the target room. They rounded a corner and Takumi flinched as they found the missing guard rotation sprawled across the ground. That had to be on camera unless those were tampered too… “Are they…?”

“Unconscious,” Saguru said, sparing them a once over. He could see their chests rise and fall as they breathed, not a mark on them. “They’ll wake up in a bit with nothing worse than a small headache.”

“Is that…is that normal?”

“For a heist? Yes.”

Takumi’s eyes were wide as they neared the police barricade. There was no hiding that they were there now, not when Saguru wasn’t trying to. An officer on duty noticed and moved to wave them down, but at that moment a loud boom and crackle came from behind them.

Behind them, the museum became a mass of fireworks, whizzing and exploding in multicolored lights. It was the perfect amount of dramatic that the public no doubt expected. In the sky, one of the search lights projected Kid’s caricature against the clouds much like something out of Batman.

The crowd cheered.

Everything was light and roars of sound until it was suddenly a roaring rumble and smoke, and the cheers were turning to screams. Saguru looked over his shoulder and saw a chunk missing from the corner of the museum. Not Kid. Definitely not Kid. Takumi wrenched around, trying to run toward the smoke as there was another explosion, but Saguru caught him around the waist.

“Kaa-san is in there!” Takumi shrieked, struggling.

“She has enough to worry about without worrying about you!” Saguru shouted back.

The police perimeter was broken in the chaos, Kid’s fans panicking, and it was easy to get swallowed by the mass of people, elbows and pressing bodies pushing them further and further from the museum. Saguru lost track of where they were. Everything was flashes of scared faces and Kid caricatured clothing and keeping a hold on Takumi through it all.

The mess parted and they were dumped into an alleyway. The communicator Saguru got earlier in the night was going off on his hip spouting snippets of things in a jumble that made it clear that Kid hadn’t made his escape just yet even in all the chaos. He could hear Aoko’s voice in that jumble though, so he was reassured she was alright. Takumi slumped against the wall, wrist still in Saguru’s death grip, pale and shaken. Saguru let go. There was going to be a nasty bruise on his wrist later. “Are you okay?” Saguru asked.

Takumi stared back blankly.

The communicator went off again, this time a clear statement that Kid was on the roof. Aoko’s voice. “Aoko sounds like she’s fine,” Saguru said.

“Did Kid blow up the museum?” Takumi asked.

“I doubt it. It’s not his method of operation.” Saguru scanned the sky. If Kid had been driven to the roof then it was only a matter of time until he escaped via glider. He moved down the alley toward more open roads; these were closed off around here from traffic due to the heist, but eventually they’d come to somewhere Saguru could call a cab and get them all back home safe. Takumi trailed after him like Saguru was the only thing that made sense at the moment and losing him would be losing the last tie to reality. Behind them was still a mass of panicked bodies and sirens. There were no more explosions at least.

They crossed two blocks before Saguru saw the triangular blur of Kid’s glider. It was barely visible in the cloud cover and residual smoke, but it was there. “Kid is escaping headed north,” Saguru said into the communicator.

“Unable to pursue,” came the response, Aoko’s voice a frustrated growl. “Too busy containing the mess here.”

Saguru planned to reply that it would be too late by the time they got out of the building anyway when the glider wobbled. It flew a few more feet before nose diving sharply. “Shit.” Kid was down. Kid was down probably injured, possibly dead, with the majority of the police force containing a small riot of hysterical panic. Saguru tossed the communicator away as it kept spouting updates from different police teams. Keeping it could lead everyone back to Kid and he wasn’t going to do that to Kuroba. Kid had fallen two, three blocks away at most.

_Let him be alive,_ Saguru thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ducks* Please don't kill me.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, heads up as that injury tag comes into play this chapter. (predictably >_> ) Also, warning for a panic attack/traumatic flashback in the later half of the chapter. If this is a problem skip from "excuse me" to "you really are retired" for the worst of that. It's not terribly detailed, but just in case.

By the time they reached the crash site, Kid was barely conscious. Saguru felt panic and horror whirling through him at the crumpled glider frame and the blood spattered around Kid, staining his white suit red. He felt sure that one leg had an open compound fracture from the swiftly spreading red stain. For one horrible moment, Saguru’s mind refused to function and he stood frozen among the rubbish bins. Then Kid groaned and Takumi at Saguru’s side took in a sharp breath. Cold, distant analysis took over, pushing emotion aside into a panicked bubble in the back of his mind. There wasn’t _time_ to panic.

Saguru strode forward, looking Kid over. There were bullet wounds on Kid’s shoulder and arm, torn cloth indicating grazes, and holes without blood on Kid’s chest where he must have a Kevlar vest under the layers of his suit. Upon closer inspection, the wound on Kid’s leg was another bullet wound, but the leg was twisted in a way that meant possible sprain or damaged ligaments if not worse. Remarkably, the bullet wounds appeared to be the worst damage, but there were scrapes along Kid’s right arm and shoulder where he must have tried to roll, and his hip from stopping the momentum. He crouched in front of Kid’s face as he twitched, struggling to try and move. Kid still had the latex mask of his disguise on, the mangled remains of the monocle somehow still clinging to his face. His eyes fought to focus on Saguru.

“You’re injured,” Saguru said, one hand reaching out in a calming gesture. “Please, don’t try to move.”

If Kid understood, Saguru couldn’t tell. Regardless, it didn’t matter as seconds after, Kid went limp, slipping into unconsciousness. Damn, he was losing too much blood. There was no real way to be gentle as Saguru released the damaged glider and carefully moved Kid away from the wreckage.

“Shit,” Takumi whimpered from near the bins. “Shit. He’s dead. Is he dead? Shit.”

“Takumi!” Saguru snapped, hoping his tone would be enough to jar Takumi out of his shock. “I could use your help.” He’d found Kid’s razor card gun and opened it to get at the cards. He had a feeling he had broken the spring mechanism in the process, but it couldn’t be helped. He cut fabric away from Kid’s leg as it was the easiest to treat first, propping it up against the remains of the glider while he worked. He could hear Takumi stagger closer.

“Wh-what do you need me to—”

“Search Kid’s pockets,” Saguru said, using Kid’s pant leg to apply pressure to the bleeding wound. It was a through and through wound, but the rate of bleeding was worryingly more than the shoulder or arm wound. _Please don’t be an artery,_ he thought. “I’ll need any scarves, bandages, or other clean cloth you can find.”

“R-right.”

Saguru checked the bleeding. It might be slowing, but he wasn’t sure and there was no _time._ Aoko and the task force could find the trail at any moment and Kid had too many wounds for one set of hands.

“Here’s a scarf…”

Saguru snatched it from Takumi’s hands, using it to better add pressure to the wound. “Swap with me,” he said, already running through what needed to be done. “I need you to keep pressure on his leg wound while I deal with his arm.” He looked away from the red slowly staining through layers of cloth into Takumi’s ashen face. Takumi’s hands were shaking against Kid’s chest, a scarf and tie in his hands and a bag of cotton balls that Kid might use to apply or remove makeup on the fly. He looked like he might faint.

“I can’t…” Takumi trailed off, eyes fixed on the blood.

Saguru moved into his line of vision, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Takumi-kun. You can do this. Please, just hold pressure on the wound. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Shouldn’t we be calling an ambulance? I’m not…we’re not…” His breath came fast, but Takumi was moving to do what Saguru asked, passing the items he had found to Saguru as his hands covered Saguru’s makeshift bandaging.

“We can’t,” Saguru said, voice flat as he moved to cut Kid’s arm free. There had to be more than just what Takumi had found to use…ah, a dark shirt and a knit cap rolled tight. Kid’s inconspicuous change of clothes.

“But he’s…”

“If he goes to a hospital like this, he’ll be arrested.”

Takumi made a soft, choked sound. “Shouldn’t he be arrested?!” he asked, too loud, voice wavering an octave higher than normal. “He’s Kid, master thief with hundreds of crimes to his name! I thought you were a detective! I thought you—”

“If Kid goes to a hospital, if he is arrested and his identity is learned, he will die,” Saguru said tightly. He went to work on Kid’s arm and shoulder, but the shoulder wasn’t clean through and there was only so much he could do… “Think. He was shot tonight. If he were at a hospital, how much easier would it be for whoever is targeting him to finish him off?”

“Shit,” Takumi said under his breath again.

Saguru tied the compression bandages as best he could, bent over to listen to Kid’s breathing. It was faint, but clear, no rasp from potential punctured lung, though Saguru wasn’t discounting the possibility of broken ribs. It was better not to remove the Kevlar yet for that very reason; it was likely supporting Kid’s torso from any injuries the crash might have made.

“If we aren’t taking him to a hospital, then what?” Takumi asked. Saguru looked back at the bandaged leg and tried to calculate if there was more or less blood than there should be, but he couldn’t tell.

There was no way they would be able to carry Kid from here on their own, not with Saguru’s bad leg and the severity of Kid’s wounds. Not with the task force still searching, and definitely not with the sniper responsible potentially still on the prowl. Think. They were near Beika, too far to use Saguru’s family resources, too far to call anyone Takumi might trust, but…

Saguru dived back into Kid’s suit jacket, pawing through Kid’s hidden pockets. Smoke pellets and razor cards and harmless magic tricks scattered. Sleeping gas, flowers, lock picks and listening devices—there! He emerged with a cellphone clasped in bloodstained fingers. It was locked, but Saguru knew Kid, knew Kuroba better than most. It only took two tried to enter the correct pin before he scrolled down through Kid’s contacts. They were inside references; Aoko was Naginata, Saguru’s own number appearing under Beekeeper, a reference to Holmes’ retirement. Saguru found what was hopefully the number he wanted under Biggest Critic, the area code indicating a Beika number.

It rang twice before someone picked up.

“Is this Kudo-san?” Saguru demanded, skipping any social niceties.

A pause, then, “ _Who is asking_?”

“Hakuba Saguru, calling from Kaitou Kid’s cellphone,” Saguru said, sure from the suspicious tone that it was Kudo. He didn’t know what to think of Kudo, but he knew Kuroba must like him and trust him to some extent. Kuroba didn’t acknowledge just anyone’s birthday, let alone leave a gift in his alter ego’s name.

“ _Hakuba_?!” Sputtered Kudo on the other end.

Saguru let out a frustrated sound. His free hand rested on Kid’s neck, feeling his pulse—it was still too fast and a bit uneven, and those were not good signs at all. “I know you’re still at the heist,” Saguru said. Kudo could have his moment of surprise when he could damn well afford one. “Kid is injured,” he said bluntly. “Multiple gunshot wounds and unknown amounts of injuries from a glider crash. For reasons you surely can intuit, it is not possible to bring him professional medical care. I am not equipped to provide such, or even to move him, and you are the closest contact in Kid’s phone who might have a way to provide aid.”

“… _Where are you_?”

“Behind an office building three blocks east of the heist location.” Saguru scanned the area. “There is a newspaper office adjacent to it, and what appears to be a restaurant sharing its work parking lot.”

“ _I’ll be there soon_ ,” Kudo said with the same serious focus Saguru felt. “ _Do you need me to stay on the line_?”

“No, it’s better if I have two hands free at the moment. Please be quick. I am uncertain how long we will go unnoticed by the task force, or worse, the people targeting Kid.” Anyone could walk by at any moment. Saguru didn’t care how Kudo managed to get through the mob at the heist, he just needed to get there.

“ _I’ll try to make it there in less than ten minutes; it’s not too far._ ”

“Thank you.” Saguru dropped the phone, not bothering to hang it up. It landed on the edge of Kid’s suitcoat where it had been pulled open to reach pockets and tend wounds.

He checked Kid’s breathing, found it unchanged, before probing gently at Kid’s head for possible head injuries. His first priority had been to stop the bleeding as much as possible, but there was a good chance of concussion or worse from this sort of a crash. Kuroba had the luck of the gods though, because from what Saguru could feel, there were no lumps, swelling or contusions, just scrapes from the forced stop where the mask had ripped away.

“Is he going to live?” Takumi asked softly. He watched as Saguru checked Kid over more carefully now, noting the scrapes and bruises, the potentially dislocated shoulder, figuring out what had taken the brunt of the crash. Takumi was still pale, but he looked less panicky than he had a few minutes ago. His hands were also stained with blood where it was seeping through on Kid’s leg.

Saguru pushed down that observation as he had the observation of his own bloody hands. “I am unsure,” he said truthfully. “These are not minor injuries, though they could have been far worse. It will depend on what medical care Kudo-san can provide, and on Kid himself.” Kuroba was stubborn. He’d cling to life with his whole will, Saguru was sure. “All we can do now is try to keep him from dying faster.”

Takumi swallowed and nodded.

“Is the bleeding slowing?” Saguru asked, checking the bandages of the other gunshot wounds—still bleeding, but slower.

“…Maybe?” Takumi sounded a bit too unsure for Saguru’s liking. He moved around to look for himself. Ah. Slowing, but not as fast as Saguru would have liked, even with having Kid’s leg elevated.

“Keep putting pressure on it,” Saguru said. “You’re doing well.”

“I don’t feel like I’m doing well,” Takumi said. “I feel like I’m sitting watching him die. I don’t even know who he is, but I’m going to end up watching some guy die and it’s Kid, but Kid’s a person and there have to be people wondering where he is, or people he knows when he’s not Kid and—”

“It’ll be okay,” Saguru cut in. “Take a breath and let it out slowly. In. Out. In. Out. Okay?”

“Yes.”

The air smelled thickly of Kid’s blood. He was blocking it out for the most part, but Saguru could feel the scent testing the edges of his focus and calm. He went back to putting pressure on Kid’s shoulder wound and keeping track of Kid’s pulse. Still well within the realms of strong. Good.

It was an indefinite amount of time later—no, not indefinite, eleven minutes at least according to Kid’s cell phone screen, though it felt like an eternity—there was the crunch of gravel in rubber tires as a car inched its way into the narrow drive. Saguru was momentarily blinded by headlights before a car door snapped open and Kuroba’s doppelganger stepped out of the driver’s side. A half beat behind him, a woman exited the other side, her light brown hair cut in a short bob. Saguru had seen pictures of Kudo before, but he had never given his resemblance to Kuroba much thought. They could have been brothers or cousins.

“Shit,” Kudo said upon seeing the scene. His eyes flicked to the glider and the blood spatters, clearly calculating trajectories. “Haibara?”

“I have the sheets to use as a stretcher, but it’s going to be hard to get him into the car and all of us fit,” the woman said. She had a detached focus in how she surveyed things, narrowing in on the worst of Kid’s injuries. “How much blood has he lost?”

“Too much,” Saguru muttered, fingers still on Kid’s pulse. “He’s still bleeding more than he should be on his leg.”

“Tourniquet?”

“Not at the moment, no. I had hoped it would slow on its own,” Saguru said. While he didn’t want Kid to bleed out, he also didn’t want to run the risk of him losing a limb if Saguru ended up tying the tourniquet too tightly.

“If it isn’t slowing, we might have to take that route. Injuries?” The woman, Haibara, moved forward, snapping gloves in place. She moved to Kid’s head first, checking his eyes.

“Gunshot wounds in his left shoulder, upper arm, and lower left leg. Potential bruised or broken ribs from further bullet shots blocked by Kevlar,” Saguru listed. “There’s a chance of further damaged ribs from the crash. Sever bruising and scrapes along Kid’s right side from impact during the crash. Possible dislocation in his right shoulder and in his legs. I’m uncertain the extent of the damage or if he has internal bleeding.”

“I’m going to need help moving him,” Haibara said, now moving Saguru’s hands away to check Kid’s pulse and eyes. She tsked. “It looks like he has at least a minor concussion. I can’t say how bad yet. Kudo.”

“I have the sheets,” Kudo said, laying them down beside Kid.

“Kudo, you have his torso. Try to reach under if you can—his shoulders need to be moved as little as possible.” Haibara moved around to Kid’s legs. “Help me with his legs,” she said to Takumi. “Hakuba-san, can you help support his hips?”

Saguru moved to stand only to find his bad leg give out on him. He looked at it dumbly for a moment before he pulled himself together. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

“Are you injured too?” Haibara asked sharply, her eyes roving over the blood on him and where it had stained his knees from kneeling by Kid’s side.

“No, it’s an old injury.”

She nodded once and turned back to ordering Kudo and Takumi. With a burst of effort, they moved Kid onto the sheets, and then lifted, the cloth bearing his weight more gently than hands could do. Saguru felt useless, trapped half-kneeling on the ground with a leg that refused to work. He couldn’t feel his knee, or the lower half of his leg really, any initial discomfort leading to this stage having been lost to focus. He steeled himself and managed to haul himself up using one of the rubbish bins, though he still couldn’t use his bad knee.

The car door banged shut on the passenger side, Kid tucked inside it. Saguru glanced at the mangled glider and the mess of blood behind them. It was evidence, evidence that could get Kuroba in trouble and—

“I’ll send a friend to clean it,” Kudo said, appearing at Saguru’s side. “Right now he needs more help just staying alive than worrying about future fallout.”

“Of course,” Saguru said. He took the offered hand automatically, leaning weight on Kudo to reach the car. Takumi stood outside it, wide eyed and pale.

“We’ll fit,” Haibara said, seeing him eye Kid’s reclined seat and the two and a half seats in the back that it cut into.

They did—barely. Takumi was half wiggled under Kid’s seat and half in Saguru’s lap in a painful contortion for both of them with Haibara squished against the door, but they fit. Kudo drove just above the speed limit until they reached a manor house that Saguru guessed was his home. Getting Kid out of the car proved more difficult than getting him in had been, jarring him against the side of the car.

He came to for a moment, eyes fluttering without opening and a deep, pained groan pulled from his chest as they finally carried him inside. Saguru hobbled after them, noting a woman—Mouri Ran? Now Kudo?—holding the door open. She pointed him in the direction they had headed, and Saguru gave her a nod of thanks. He didn’t stop to take his shoes off—no one had—and felt a thin trickle of guilt add to the bubble of suppressed emotions that were clamoring to come out now that Kid was moving toward safe.

He made it to a room that looked like a lab, only a table had been dragged in and sterilized to work as an operating room, and a mishmash of medical objects sat on a folding tray table. It stank of disinfectant and looked like something a back-room yakuza doctor would have set up.

“I’m not making any promises,” Haibara was saying to Takumi. “I’m a chemist, not a doctor, but I’ve fixed up enough scrapes this idiot has gotten himself into to have some idea of what I’m doing.”

Kudo didn’t seem to take offense to her tone as he helped cut Kid free of his clothing.

Takumi looked away, turning green as bruises and abrasions became visible.

“Takumi-kun, it’s okay,” Saguru said. “You don’t have to watch.”

Relief plain in his face, Takumi all but ran out of the room. Saguru looked at Kid, frowning. “He needs a blood transfusion,” he muttered.

“I can’t do a transfusion if I don’t know what blood type he is,” Haibara said. She’d gotten Kid’s pants off, leaving just his underwear for modesty for the moment, but based on the bruising, even that would have to be removed to properly treat it.

“He’s type B,” Saguru said, a detail committed to memory a lifetime ago. “I’d donate, but I’m type A.”

“I’m O,” Kudo cut in, “and so is Ran. I’ll give a transfusion.”

Haibara snorted. “Of course,” she said tone just a hair off mocking. “You would give the thief house, help, and your own blood.”

Kudo scowled and there was context Saguru was missing, some reason for Haibara to have hostility or, perhaps, a judgment on Kudo’s character. Kudo turned to Saguru. “I’m glad you made it out of that mess in one piece,” Kudo said. “It’s bad out there... Not really what you needed to come out of retirement for.” There was the tiniest thread of humor there, like he was used to searching for the bright side in disasters.

Saguru sighed. “I am still retired. Technically.”

“I would have thought you’d turn him in,” Kudo said, sharp eyed and evaluating. He cut away Kid’s dress shirt so that only the Kevlar and undershirt remained.

“Funny,” Saguru shot back. “I would have thought the same of you.” He didn’t know how far he could trust Kudo, didn’t know what to think of him here and now as he helped Kid.

“How did you know Kid’s blood type?” Kudo asked. “If you’re still trying to unmask—”

“I don’t need to bloody unmask him!” Saguru growled, heightened emotions finally coming out as anger. Kudo looked immediately apologetic, and somehow that only made the anger twist higher. “I’ve known who the hell he is for almost seventeen bloody years! I knew who he was practically the moment I met him face to face without the costume on! I had DNA! I just never caught him in the act!” He paused, breathing hard and feeling wildly off balance. Haibara had removed the bandage at Kid’s leg and was sanitizing it. The room started to smell like blood. “That was years ago,” Saguru continued hoarsely. “And frankly? He’s a better friend than an opponent, and I would rather get arrested for aiding a criminal than let him get arrested because if he gets caught, he’s just as dead as getting shot at a heist, and so is everyone else in his life.” He swayed, shot Haibara a hard look. “Don’t let Takumi-kun come in here,” he said, noting how the latex mask had ripped and curled up some in the process of stripping Kid. “Especially once the mask comes off.” He had no doubt that she’d be removing it.

“Oh?” She sounded bored, but her eyes were sharp in the glance she sent him.

Once the mask came off, there wouldn’t be much use in hiding Kuroba’s identity, and Takumi looked just like him.

“It would be best if right now he didn’t know he witnessed his father bleeding out on the pavement,” Saguru said bitingly.

Kudo’s eyes widened and Haibara gripped the scalpel she was using to cut away Saguru’s makeshift bandages until her knuckles were white.

“So please,” Saguru said, “do your best to ensure he doesn’t die.” He swayed again because his good leg wanted to give out and he was suddenly very aware of the blood drying under his fingernails and how it clung in flakes to the grooves of his fingerprints and the iron tang of it in the air. “Excuse me,” he said, stumbling as fast as he could _away_.

He didn’t know where a bathroom was. Instead, he staggered into the first room he came to, located the wastebasket, and promptly threw up in it. His legs gave out and he sat on the floor as he gagged until there was nothing left in his stomach and then some, shaking now that Kid—Kuroba—was in someone else’s hands.

Damn.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t go through this again. He couldn’t be waiting to see if someone he cared for lived or died with their blood on his hands again. Saguru wanted to be clean, to sear away the blood with hot water until his hands were raw, but he was too busy trying to breathe and stop shaking to try and find the bathroom to do so.

He was thirteen months ago, sitting in the lobby of the hospital, blood on his hands and the scent of sanitizer in his nose and a body sitting in blood seared in his mind. He could all but feel the biting plastic of the waiting room seat, see the brown stains caught on his hands no matter how many times he washed them. The metallic, meaty scent of blood that hung around his stained clothes where he’d caught Mel as he crumpled. The sound of doctor’s shoes on hard tile approaching him. The beep of a heart monitor and hiss of an oxygen mask.

There was a distant hand on his shoulder, a voice, but he couldn’t smell anything but the blood now and no matter how many breaths he took, he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Please,” someone said.

Then another voice, firmer and calmer, “Hakuba. It’s okay. Whatever you’re seeing, that’s not now. You’re not there.” The hospital receded slightly as he felt an ache in his shoulders—two hands gripping them tightly. He took a breath, focused on them, because he knew it was the past even if it didn’t feel like it. “You’re in Japan,” the voice continued, “in Beika. You’re in one of the guest bedrooms of the Kudo manor. There’s carpet under your hands, can you feel it?”

Saguru twitched his fingers, and there was carpet, rough and woolen. He took another breath and closed his eyes, focusing on the now, the feel of hands on his shoulders and the breath in his lungs and the carpet under his fingers. He let the breath out and opened his eyes. Kudo crouched in front of him looking concerned but not judgmental.

“You really are retired aren’t you?” he asked.

“Yes, but only fully as of ten months ago,” Saguru replied. What kind of detective couldn’t handle blood?

Kudo looked over Saguru’s shoulder and reached out. Saguru turned and flinched to see Takumi with a glass of water. He looked worried too. “To clear your mouth,” Kudo said in way of explanation.

“Thank you,” Saguru rasped. The water was cold, the temperature difference one more thing to focus on. It washed the acrid taste of stomach bile from his tongue and soothed his stinging throat. He tried not to pay attention to how drinking brought his bloodied hands closer to his face. “Is there a place where I can wash up?”

Kudo nodded toward a door in the back of the room, which, now that Saguru was looking, was a guest room with a bed made up along one wall and a few pieces of furniture to give the space some character.

“Ah. Thank you.”

“I’m going to be Haibara’s second pair of hands,” Kudo said, letting go of Saguru’s shoulder. “If you or, Takumi-kun was it?” Takumi nodded. “If you need anything, talk to Ran.”

“We’ll be sure to do so,” Saguru murmured, waiting until Kudo was gone to even attempt to stand up. To his surprise, Takumi was at his side, stabilizing him so that they could make it to the bathroom together. Saguru was careful not to look in the mirror as he scrubbed at his arms, leaning most of his weight on the sink.

“Hakuba-sensei…” Takumi said quietly when Saguru soaped up for a third time, focusing on the blood caught around his fingernails.

“I’m aware that I’m not going to be able to remove it all,” Saguru said. This happened when blood dried on in small creases and crevices of skin. Takumi’s skin had blood trapped under his nails and the creases of his knuckles as well. He must have washed himself clean in between leaving the makeshift operating room and finding Saguru. Saguru stopped himself from washing a fourth time. “I apologize.”

Takumi twitched. “For what? I’m the one that tried to see the heist.”

His poker face still didn’t hold a candle to Kuroba’s. He was unnerved and scared under his bravado. It was no doubt worse for seeing Saguru have a breakdown when he should be the one in control.

“Be that as it may, you should not have had to be a part of all this.”

He got a shrug in response.

“And I apologize that you had to witness…” _me having a mental breakdown_ “…my loss of control.”

“…I wouldn’t judge you on that,” Takumi said seriously. “You held it together when you needed to while I was… There’s nothing to apologize about.” He looked back toward the makeshift operating room as Saguru dabbed ineffectively at the bloodstains on his clothing. “How long have people been trying to kill Kid?”

“…the entirety of Kid’s existence so far as I am aware. The entirety of both Kid’s existences.”

“Both?”

Saguru gave up on getting any stains to come out. The outfit would most likely have to be tossed. “There have been at least two Kids in existence; the first Kid that built the thief’s reputation, and a second Kid who appeared eight years after the first Kid vanished.”

“Oh.” Takumi offered his shoulder in support. “So whoever shot Kid today probably killed his predecessor.”

“That is the theory,” Saguru said. That theory proven true through conversations with Kuroba.

“He really would die if we took him to the hospital, then.”

“It isn’t outside the realm of belief that they are keeping an eye on hospitals for someone to come in with gunshot wounds. It also isn’t unlikely that they are using police resources to do so.”

“…How much does Kaa-san know?” Takumi asked softly.

“She didn’t want you at heists, did she?” Saguru said. In the few stories involving Kid Saguru had told Takumi, they had been the lighter hearted ones, usually with humorous moments at Saguru’s expense or featuring Takumi’s parents. Aoko and Kuroba had likely done the same, if only to spare Takumi some worry about his mother leading the task force. He couldn’t have been completely ignorant of the injuries surrounding heists, but there was knowing something and then there was witnessing it firsthand.

Takumi was quiet the rest of the way to the study. A clock chimed three in the morning. Saguru sat on one of the couches and closed his eyes. He felt like he could sleep for a year except that there was still anxious tension thrumming under his skin. It made for the perfect combination of exhaustion and insomnia. Takumi sat on the same couch, to Saguru’s surprise.

He was pale, half curled in on himself with his shoulders slumped and his hands limp and open on his lap. Takumi wasn’t someone who came across the sort of violence that Saguru or Kudo had over the years. Even Aoko had her share of violence. Despite his reaction to it today, it had been more because it was Kuroba and the injuries were gunshot wounds that Saguru had reacted badly than the blood and gore itself. It was easy to forget sometimes that not everyone was used to dealing with that sort of thing.

“Takumi-kun.”

“Hmm?” Takumi looked away from his hands slowly.

Saguru set a hand on Takumi’s shoulder. “You did well. It’s not easy to keep calm in an emergency, but you did.”

“Is it always so…?” Takumi clenched his hands.

“Sometimes,” Saguru answered honestly. “Sometimes you are haunted by the memory for years.”

“And other times?”

“Other times it might barely affect you and you end up wondering if something is wrong with you that blood and bodies don’t bring the emotions they used to.”

“Oh.” Takumi tipped sideways, his head landing on Saguru’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Can I just…?”

“It’s fine.” Saguru settled himself back into the couch cushions and closed his eyes. He might sleep, he might not. He couldn’t deny that contact was comforting to him right now either. “Try to rest.”

He felt Takumi shift to get comfortable, heard his breathing shift slower and deeper the longer they sat until he might be asleep. Somewhere in the mess of tension, Saguru managed to let go as well, drifting into a daze of half awareness, one step away from sleep.


	20. Chapter 20

He woke to a burning ache of pain in his knee and with the cold sweat of fear trickling down his back. Saguru jolted, reaching for his leg automatically as if massaging it would help when it was hurting this badly. Faint memories of a nightmare, like poor reflections from a rippling pool, lingered. A warm presence at his side made an unhappy sound, turning over to bury deeper against the couch cushions. Takumi. And it was the couch in Kudo’s study. Saguru let out a tense breath. No wonder his knee was agony. Between chasing Kid at a crime scene, crouching on concrete, and then collapsing on it again with his panic attack, it was more careless use than he ordinarily put it through. Add on his mental state and, well, Saguru was fairly certain the worst of the burning sensation was purely mental. There was faint light filtering through the windows, so it was past sunrise, but still very early. He squinted at his watch. Six thirteen in the morning. He’d managed to get almost three hours of rest.

The house creaked, soft footsteps as someone moved upstairs. At some point someone had left a blanket draped over him, though it had fallen to his lap. There was one covering Takumi as well. He was curled tight against Saguru’s side, his face pressed against the couch cushions, twisted in a way that looked uncomfortable. He grumbled again as Saguru shifted away, trying not to wake him.

Saguru levered himself upright, hissing at the pins and needles added to the achy knee. It felt like his whole leg had suddenly remembered it existed and was making its presence known with a vengeance. He was almost to the door when he tripped on a footstool, sending it screeching across the wooden floor.

Takumi sat upright. The blanket slid off his shoulders to the ground. So much for trying to let him sleep more, Saguru thought irritably. “Hakuba-sensei?” Takumi asked, voice thick with sleep.

“It’s just me being clumsy,” Saguru sighed.

“Kid?”

“I am on my way to find out.”

Takumi wiped at his face. “Just a second… I’ll come with you.” He wobbled to his feet, yawning. “What time is it?”

“A quarter after six.”

“Mm. Too early.”

“Agreed,” Saguru sighed. He would have a headache eventually, like he usually did when he missed large gaps of sleep.

“What happened to your cane anyway?” Takumi asked as he helped Saguru out of the room, leaning into Saguru almost as much as Saguru needed to lean on him. It seemed the social boundaries had broken down in wake of yesterday, be it that Takumi now felt that Saguru was safe to be casual with because he hadn’t reacted badly or because Takumi still needed the comfort, Saguru wasn’t sure. He didn’t mind either way. He’d long since resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to be impartial to Takumi. He was Kuroba’s son first, Saguru’s student second.

The question gave Saguru pause, his mind blearily casting back to the mess of the heist and its aftermath. “I believe I left it with the glider remains,” Saguru said. “Or perhaps at the bins.” He hadn’t thought about what he could or couldn’t (or should or shouldn’t) do after seeing Kid on the pavement. He’d forgotten about his knee entirely until he’d gone to use it to stand again. The cane was probably gone now. If Kudo had followed through on getting someone to clean the site up, then there would be little chance that something tied to him would be left there.

“I wonder if they have something you could borrow,” Takumi said. They wandered out into the hallway. In the dim morning light, the manor felt much larger than it had at night. Now Saguru could see the high ceiling in the front room and the length of the halls. The Kudo manor wasn’t as large as Saguru’s childhood homes, but it was certainly large enough to lose someone in. Saguru thought the room they’d left Kid in was down the left hallway, but to be honest, he couldn’t remember where he had gone when he had the panic attack only that it had been away.

There were quiet sounds of someone moving about to the left, and the smell of something cooking. The kitchen, then.

It seemed Takumi had the same thought as Saguru because he turned left without anything needing be said.

The kitchen was painted a warm shade of light gold that was made warmer in the early light. At the stove was the same woman who had held open the door the night before. He was sure now that this was Mouri Kogoro’s daughter, now Kudo Ran. He didn’t remember her well, but he knew he had seen her the few times his path had crossed the sleeping detective and the eerily sharp boy, Edogawa Conan. She looked up as they entered, exhaustion on her face mirroring their own. She offered them a smile all the same.

“Breakfast is almost done,” Ran said. When she turned fully, Saguru noticed the bandage at the crook of her arm. She’d given her blood, then.

“Is Kid…?” Saguru trailed off, unsure if he wanted to end that sentence with ‘alive’ or ‘stable.’

“He’s recovering.” She went back to slicing tomatoes and thin yellow pepper strips. On the stove was a large pan with eggs frying in it, and a small, covered earthenware pot on the back burner. “He hasn’t woken up, but Ai-san managed to patch him up and his vitals are stable. He did have a bit of a concussion though, so she’s keeping an eye on that.”

Saguru relaxed a beat before Takumi did, sagging forward with the weight of relief. Thank goodness. If Kuroba died… His mind shied away from that train of thought.

“Sit down,” Ran said over her shoulder. “You look like you’re going to fall over. Is your leg okay, Hakuba-san?”

“Old injury,” Saguru said, gratefully taking one of the offered seats. “Normally I use a cane but I seem to have lost it.”

“Hmm, I think Shinichi has some walking sticks somewhere,” Ran said. “I’ll see if I can find them later.”

“Thank you.” Both of the Kudos were being so bafflingly welcoming. They were acquaintances at best from half a lifetime ago and considering the circumstances… “You seem awfully calm considering you have Kaitou Kid recovering under your roof.”

Ran laughed, pulling plates from the cupboards and dishing out eggs onto them “There are a lot worse people out there than Kid,” Ran said. She pulled a pan from the oven full of toast, adding those to the plates, and a bit of salad on the side. “Besides, it’s not like he hasn’t been here before. He used to pretend to be Shinichi sometimes when he needed to get somewhere that a detective could access. So he’s been here before and the only thing that was hurt then was pride.”

Whose pride, Kudo’s or Kid’s? Saguru wondered. Or perhaps it was Ran’s pride that had been hurt? She didn’t explain any further, setting two plates in front of them with a smile. Takumi’s stomach growled loudly and he ducked his head.

Ran laughed. “Go ahead and eat. The others will be down in a minute.”

Seven plates. Who else was there besides Kudo and Haibara? As if on cue, heavy footfalls stampeded down the stairs, thudding down the hallway. Two girls skidded into the kitchen only to freeze when they set eyes on Saguru and Takumi. Saguru was again struck by how much Kudo resembled Kuroba; the girls could have been Takumi’s siblings down to the slightly rounder eye shape in the younger of the two that in Kuroba Saguru attributed to some bit of European ancestry on his mother’s side.

“This is Hanae and Midori,” Ran said indicating the older and younger girl respectively. “Girls, meet Hakuba-san and Takumi-kun. They’re guests at the moment.”

Hanae frowned at them, but Midori simply turned to Takumi and said, “You’re sitting in my chair.”

Takumi gripped his plate. “Um. Do you want me to move?”

“No.” Midori moved around him and pulled out another chair. “You can be me today.”

“Then who are you?” Takumi asked.

“Hanae.”

“Then who am I?” Hanae demanded, stomping over to pull out the last chair.

“Tou-san,” Midori said. “Because you’re in his place.”

Her sister thought it over, shrugged. “Okay.”

Ran smiled and a tired looking Kudo wandered in. He looked enough like Kuroba, his hair mussed up in the back and relaxed stance, that Saguru almost did a double-take. Takumi paused with a bite of egg halfway to his mouth and blinked.

“What’s wrong?” Kudo asked.

“Nothing,” Saguru said. “You merely resemble someone we know.”

Kudo’s eyes flicked toward where Kid must be. “I’ve heard that I had a look-alike running around.”

“Sure you don‘t have a long lost twin?” Takumi muttered. His shoulders hunched. “It’s a little creepy.”

“It’s your hair,” Saguru explained when Kudo raised an eyebrow. He was probably wondering why his appearance was only getting a response now.

“Ah.” Kudo ran a hand through his hair to try and put it to order, but it was still messier than it had been when he arrived to help them.

“Tou-san, I’m you today!” Hanae said as her mother set breakfast before her and her sister. She knelt in her chair and leaned toward Takumi and Midori. “Today we’re going to do puzzles,” she said attempting to pitch her voice deeper.

“Um. Sure?” Takumi said. “Er, what kind of puzzles are you thinking about?”

“Eat your breakfast before games,” Ran said, looking amused as her daughters started to dig into their breakfast. She pulled up a stool to the counter and Kudo leaned next to her. He grinned when Ran handed him a plate and a pot of coffee. He had the same bandage on the crook of his arm that she did from giving blood.

Fresh concern all but deadened Saguru’s appetite. How much blood had Kid needed? How much had he lost that he’d needed blood from two donors? Saguru pushed a slice of tomato around his plate. He was dimly aware of the girls drawing Takumi into conversation, but most of his attention was focused on how pale Kid had been and the extent of his wounds… Had he done enough last night? How severe of a concussion had it been? Kid had blacked out, but from head trauma or from pain and blood loss? He should finish eating and go see for himself, except that seeing Kid still and quiet and bandaged, unconscious and unresponsive again… That would probably set him off again.

The clatter of a fork against porcelain jolted him from his thoughts as Hanae threw down her utensil. “Done!” she said as her sister stuffed the last wedge of toast in her mouth, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk’s. “To the library!” Hanae said, pointing imperiously. Midori swallowed her last bite with a swallow of juice.

“Plates in the sink,” Ran said as both girls leapt from their seats. They hastily grabbed their dishes to abandon them at the sink before returning to grab Takumi.

“C’mon, since you’re Midori, you have to help pick the puzzle,” Hanae grunted, tugging at Takumi’s arm. “It’s tradition!”

“Uh.” Takumi let himself be pulled from his seat, Midori’s small hands joining Hanae’s as they tugged him toward the door. He gave Saguru an alarmed, pleading look. Clearly he didn’t interact with children very often.

“No fighting, and no puzzles from the top shelf,” Kudo said, making no move to rescue Takumi. Kudo glanced at Saguru.

Takumi’s alarm turned resigned as he was pulled out the doorway. Saguru hoped that playing with the girls would be a good distraction; Takumi looked like he still had Kid bleeding out behind his eyes. Sometimes doing something, anything, was enough to keep traumatic thoughts from gaining footholds.

“I’ll take this to Ai-san,” Ran said, plucking the last plate from the counter and exiting the room.

It felt planned except that Saguru didn’t think that Kudo had intended his children to accost Takumi. Saguru met Kudo’s sharp gaze, much more alert now that he had caffeine entering his system.

“So,” Kudo said over his coffee.

“So,” Saguru echoed. “Kid’s injuries?”

“The gunshot wounds you know,” Kudo said, eyes never leaving Saguru. “Road burn along his right side along with severe bruising. Bruised ribs, none broken. His shoulder was dislocated, but not his leg—the leg’s a bad sprain. Moderate concussion at least. Still waiting to see how bad the effects of that are. He’s woken a few times, but hasn’t stayed awake long between what Haibara’s dosing him with and the pain. He seemed lucid when he phased in, but it’s kind of hard to tell since I don’t know him much outside of heists.”

“He can be a lot less calm or in control outside of heists,” Saguru said. He didn’t miss the way Kudo’s gaze sharpened the slightest bit at his words.

“You know him pretty well, then,” Kudo said, “inside and outside of heists.”

“I do.” No matter how much Kudo dissected him with his eyes, Saguru wasn’t going to feel ashamed for becoming friends with Kuroba. “I was his classmate once, back in high school. We weren’t friends then, but we weren’t enemies either. We had each other’s respect even if we could not see each other’s point of view. I have only become friends with him in truth over the last few months.”

“Even though he’s a thief?” Kudo asked.

“Arguable,” Saguru said, “Kid’s greatest crimes are the property damage and mental health of the officers chasing him than his thefts. The stolen items are almost always returned. But I understand what you mean. Ten, even five years ago, the gray morality of it all wouldn’t have mattered. Stealing was stealing, a crime was a crime.” But Saguru had more insight now on what it felt like to be desperate and tempted to take illegal routes to get results. He’d had a very black and white viewpoint of right and wrong even as he had sought answers to motivations and even sympathized with the criminals on occasion. In the end, a crime had been a crime. “But with Kid, there’s always been an exception,” Saguru admitted. “With Kid there was always the code of honor after a certain point to catch him in the act and leave who he was outside of Kid alone. It wasn’t like that at first, but it was different the more I grew to know him. I would keep track of his slip ups and secure that I was in the know. I never stopped being curious about him all these years, about what motivated him. I was relieved to meet him again and decide not to chase. We both needed someone then. Someone who would listen but not press what we couldn’t talk about yet.”

Kudo was quiet, weighing Saguru’s words. If it was judgment lurking behind the thoughtful silence, then Saguru could only counter with questions of his own.

“And you, Kudo-san?” Saguru challenged. “You have been chasing Kid for more almost two decades, attended far more heists than I have. Your records show you’ve been closer than any other independent detective to catching Kid. Why help him?”

Kudo took a long swallow of coffee. “It’s a lot like your code of honor,” he said eventually. “I chase him, he runs, but we have truces and we’ve helped each other when there were larger threats before. We would be friends if we could ever let our guards down, but I can’t stop wanting to fit clues about him together, and he is always watching to makes sure that he doesn’t slip up, so we can never bridge that bit of a gap to reach that point.”

“And now you’ve seen his face,” Saguru said. He pushed his plate aside, not hungry for the remaining triangle of toast and bits of salad.

“I already guessed he looked like me,” Kudo said. He shrugged. “He wore my face too many times over the years, including to cases where Nakamori-keibu pinched the crap out of it. He couldn’t have been wearing a mask.”

“And you’ve seen him up close before,” Saguru theorized. He narrowed his eyes and Kudo shrugged again, neither confirming nor denying. Interesting.

“I work murders,” Kudo said. “Almost every case I come across is a murder and ones I’ve been hired for besides. Compared to that, Kid heists are fairly low risk with a lot fewer corpses. Kid’s a criminal but there are a lot worse people out there.”

“Thus why you keep your arrest attempts contained to when you’re on the job.”

“More or less. Of course,” Kudo smiled over the rim of his mug in a very Kuroba-esque look, “anything is fair game to use against him when we’re next on the job.”

“Including his family?” Saguru asked. Mild distaste turned his lips into a frown.

“No.” Kudo set aside his coffee and plate. He had barely touched his food. “There are things that would be crossing the line too far.”

Saguru studied him. Kudo was a detective, but that they were having this discussion showed he was willing to cross moral lines in a way most would not. “Would you if your family was at stake?”

“Would you?” Kudo returned.

If Kuroba was someone he’d never met? If he didn’t know Aoko and Takumi and his father or mother’s life was at stake? (If Mel’s life had been at stake?) Saguru weighed his emotions and potential guilt and regrets versus what he knew of his family and himself. Even knowing what it felt to lose his most important person…how it hurt like a gaping wound, a gunshot never healed… “No,” he said. Because it would be inflicting that pain inevitably on someone else, and he wasn’t sure he or his loved ones would be able to forgive that. But for Kuroba in particular? “No, I couldn’t do that, and it would hurt if by choosing to protect someone else’s family mine was harmed. But I’d do everything I could to keep both safe if possible.”

Kudo sighed. “And I’m not sure I would make that choice,” he admitted. “Which is one more reason Kid and I can’t cross lines like you’re doing.”

And yet, Saguru thought, so many lines had clearly been crossed already. There was history between Kuroba and Kudo that Saguru likely would never know of or understand. Things had happened between them that led to Kuroba leaving birthday wishes and trusting that Kudo would never aim a gun at him again. They meant that Kudo helped Kid live first and asked questions second and had no surprise whatsoever that Kid would end up injured to such an extent. Yet they weren’t friends by their own words and Saguru was. Whatever their history, Saguru supposed he should just be grateful that Kudo had agreed to help and that Kid was safely recovering now.

“By the way,” Kudo said, “how did you get my phone number?”

“Kid’s cell phone,” Saguru said. “I knew he must have your number since he kept track of you, and we were in Beika so even with you attending the heist, you were the closest possible source of aid. He sent you birthday wishes and believes you wouldn’t do him harm outside of a heist,” he explained, thinking back to his discussion with Kuroba in May. Kudo’s eyes widened as if he either hadn’t expected Kid to talk about him or he hadn’t expected that much trust. He hid the reaction away again under a sigh and roll of his eyes.

“Of course he has my cell phone number. Despite having changed it again.”

“He is quite thorough,” Saguru agreed. “You’re listed under ‘biggest critic’ in case you were curious.”

Kudo smiled, both fond and annoyed. “He’s never going to give that up is he?”

“As I was listed under a Holmes reference, no, he does hold on to first associations.” Granted, Saguru had Holmsian jokes and references coming considering his choice of attire in his younger years. And he didn’t really mind it. There were far worse parallels Kuroba could have drawn. In a way it was flattering to have Holmes attached to Saguru in Kuroba’s subconscious. It would be more so if Saguru wasn’t sure there was an edge of mockery in that association.

“Lucky,” Kudo sighed.

Saguru shrugged. “So. We both agree that we can trust that our desire to keep Kid alive and whole is greater than the temptation to see him face justice for his chaos, correct?”

“Yeah.” Kudo straightened, setting his empty mug aside. “And we’re both in agreement that it would be wrong to catch him outside of a heist.”

“Then I think we can get along fine,” Saguru said, letting himself smile.

Sudden rapid footsteps made them both tense, turning to face the doorway as Takumi speed walked into the room, phone pressed to his ear. He looked almost as pale as he had been last night and for a moment Saguru thought the worst.

Aoko. Aoko dead chasing after Kid and running afoul of the sniper. Aoko injured and in the hospital. Kuroba being tied to Kid with the evidence left from their hasty retreat. Then Takumi looked at him, and it wasn’t the sort of fear of someone you know being hurt; it was the sort of terrified guilty expressions Saguru had seen hundreds of times over the years on students who had made bad choices and were facing parental repercussions. Shit. They had both forgotten about Aoko.

It was nearing seven in the morning and with Kid’s escape, the evidence that Kid was injured, and the missing gem, Aoko had probably only just gotten home after a night searching frantically for Kid. She knew Saguru’s part in the heist, but she still didn’t know that Takumi had been there. So she would have come home to no Takumi, no answer from Kuroba’s cell phone or home phone, and probably assumed the worst. “She’s going to kill us.”

“Who?” Kudo asked as Takumi thrust the phone in Saguru’s face.

“Here,” he said.

Saguru took the phone from him like he would take a vial of particularly volatile chemicals. “Hello?”

“ _Where the fuck are you?”_ Aoko growled.

Saguru winced. Kudo looked on like a particularly interesting play was unfolding before him. “Safe,” Saguru said, because that was the immediate concern to alleviate. He hurried on before she had the chance to start ranting at him like she had no doubt been doing to Takumi. “Last night Kid was shot down while escaping, as you no doubt have pieced together. Takumi and I happened to witness it and followed the trajectory. Neither Takumi nor I was harmed, but Kid required medical attention. Currently, Kid is stable and in recovery.”

 _“Dammit, Hakuba,_ ” Aoko thundered down the other end, _“give me a location!”_

Saguru winced, glancing at Kudo who was listening in intently. He felt doubly like he was navigating verbal pitfalls. “I cannot. At the moment your presence would be inadvisable as well as a conflict of interests.”

 “ _Fuck advisability! You shouldn’t have even been there. Takumi damn well shouldn’t have! You told me that you would stay out of Kid related affairs—”_

“I promised that I would no longer attempt to catch Kid. I promised a friend that I had no intention of even attending a heist.” They both knew he meant Kuroba. “I did not want to be there. But never did I promise that I wouldn’t step in to keep Kid alive.”

“ _I don’t want him dead either_ ,” Aoko said, audibly trying to reign herself in. “ _I want him alive and I want to cuff him with him aware that I’m doing it. Are you at a hospital?_ ”

“Would a hospital stay silent about bullet wounds?” Saguru countered drily.

She swore at him, a few colorful phrases Saguru was sure she had picked up from her father and his Kid chasing days. He held the phone a bit away from his ear and let her vent. Heavy breathing came from the other end after a few moments of silence. “ _Fine. Fine, of course you’re not at a hospital. You’re protecting Kid. Fine. Honestly, I should have seen this coming. But for fuck’s sake, Hakuba, don’t you think that if I didn’t want him to live through this whole bullshit, I’d have turned him in ages ago?”_ Saguru felt guilt sit heavy in his stomach alongside what was already there for forgetting to call. Aoko might get angry, but no, he didn’t think she ever wanted Kuroba dead. She took another deep breath and let it out a bit too quickly for it to be effective as a meditative technique. “ _How much does Takumi know?”_

“No more than Kid has been injured and that I believe it is safer for Kid’s health not to go to a hospital.”

 _“You’re sure_?”

“Yes.” Saguru closed his eyes, feeling Kudo and Takumi’s gazes on him. Too many people not in the know. “You need to talk,” he said, letting his serious tone reinforce the implied topic.

 _“He doesn’t need to know,”_ Aoko said sharply, _“and you’re not going to tell him anything._ ”

“I won’t,” Saguru said. He turned away from Kudo and Takumi, not that it would do much with them standing less than a meter away. “But you should consider that next time might not be so lucky.” Because there would be a next time. And another and another because Kuroba wasn’t giving up and neither were the mysterious snipers. Next time could be Kuroba bleeding out without friendly intervention. Next time could be a shot to the head. Saguru shuddered.

And Aoko knew that as did Kuroba, but they seemed to keep pushing that aside. _“Fuck you,”_ Aoko growled, much like Kuroba had responded when Saguru suggested that telling Takumi would be for the better in the long run. _“It would only be more dangerous if he did know.”_

“Then history has a high chance of repeating,” Saguru snapped back. He regretted it instantly. With emotions strung tight, now wasn’t the time to press. None of them were being rational at the moment. “I apologize,” he said stiffly to the ragged silence on the other end. “That was overstepping.” He hoped he had not made her cry again.

“ _You’re overstepping a lot, Hakuba-san,”_ Aoko sighed after a moment. There was no presence of tears in her voice, just bone weary exhaustion that Saguru could empathize with. _“You’ve put yourself right in the middle of everything with Kaito and Takumi and…Never mind._ ” She sighed again. “ _Get Takumi back home soon. Keep Bakaito’s secrets. It’s probably safer the fewer people who know where he is anyway. You_ will _tell me how he’s doing. He’s going to need some sort of excuse to cover this sort of injury…”_

“Of course.” He had fully intended to keep her informed about Kuroba’s health. “I promise to return Takumi-kun within the day.” He met Takumi’s eyes and felt a flash of sympathetic amusement as Takumi winced.

_“If he’s not back by lunch, I’m using police resources to track his cell phone.”_

“I promise,” Saguru repeated.

Aoko hung up without a goodbye, and Saguru disconnected the call. Takumi took his phone back and fidgeted with the case.

“So, his mother?” Kudo asked lightly.

“Yes,” Saguru said before Takumi could say any names. “You have to be home by noon,” Saguru added to Takumi.

Takumi’s shoulders hunched and he stared down at his phone. “I’m grounded. And I’m not going to be allowed over at Tou-san’s for a while because he’s apparently a bad influence.”

Well, that would let Kuroba recover a bit before he next interacted with Takumi. Probably. Although… “He didn’t encourage you to go to a heist.” Kuroba wouldn’t. He knew how dangerous they had become. Kuroba probably wished Aoko would retire and stop attending.

“No, he told me to listen to Kaa-san.” Takumi shrugged. “It’s not really about if Tou-san did or didn’t though. She just wants me where she can keep an eye on me. She’s probably going to have another fight with Tou-san about it too.” He sighed. “Tou-san hasn’t even mentioned Kid in ages.”

Saguru winced. Any fight right now would turn ugly fast. It was probably a good thing Kuroba wasn’t going anywhere soon. Either way, Saguru would likely end up witnessing at least part of it whenever that confrontation came.

“Your mother doesn’t like Kid?” Kudo asked. He had a hand on his chin, thoughts churning behind sharp eyes.

Takumi snorted. “That’s an understatement. I don’t think anyone hates Kaitou Kid more than Kaa-san.”

“Hmm.”

If Kuroba made it out of the Kudo household with his identity a secret, it would be a miracle. It was miracle enough that they’d avoided last names.

“If you’re done blocking the doorway…” Haibara’s monotonous voice said from behind Takumi. Her hands were full of dirty dishes. “Kudo, your guest has woken up.”

***

At some point in the night, Kid had been moved to one of the guest bedrooms on the first floor. He had an IV taped to one hand, a brace on his right ankle and knee, and right arm in a sling. The T-shirt he’d been dressed in did nothing to hide the bandages on his arms or shoulder. He’d been given the courtesy of a half-mask to cover his face for what little good it would do when everyone but Takumi and the children had seen it, but it likely helped psychologically at least. Saguru was grateful that he had a moment with Kid to himself.

Saguru sat in a chair that had been helpfully left by the bedside, Kid’s eyes remarkably lucid as they focused on him.

“Rough night, huh?” Kid asked, or more Kuroba asked with none of Kid’s airs or masks at all. His voice was slurred a bit, likely from the pain medication.

“I’m not the one that looks like I’ve been through a meat grinder,” Saguru said. He focused on Kuroba’s hand on top of the sheets. There were scratches on it too, little nicks and scrapes and divots from the concrete.

“Maa, so serious,” Kuroba said lightly. He was too still. Normally Kuroba would be playing with something in his hands, but they remained limp at his sides. “It’s such a nice morning too.” He tilted his head toward the sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window. Saguru didn’t turn to look. Kuroba’s strained smile slid off his face. He sighed. “So on a scale of one to ten, how screwed am I?”

“Within what parameters? With the police? Your health? With Kudo-san? With Aoko-san?”

Kuroba winced. “Start small, work bigger.”

“I’m sure you’ve been informed of your health.” Kuroba still wasn’t moving any more than he had to. What pain medications was he on? At least, Saguru thought, still watching the IV drain into Kuroba’s veins, there wasn’t the incessant beep of a heart monitor to add to the unpleasantness. “I am curious how you will explain these wounds away this time. Another fall? Car accident? Hit by a bike messenger and knocked down a flight of stairs?”

Surprisingly, Kuroba didn’t fill Saguru’s pause with a flippant answer. Saguru couldn’t bring himself to look at what sort of expression he had right now, so he continued as if he hadn’t paused at all.

“For now, Kudo-san is holding a truce. He will provide medical care for as long as you require it, and not use anything he sees or hears during this time against you. You can get a promise of that out of him later. Kudo and his wife seem to be more comfortable about having you in their home than I ever would have expected.” Kuroba’s hand twitched and Saguru shifted, now examining the slight rise and fall of Kuroba’s chest as he breathed. “Aoko-san is angry and worried. You were aware that Takumi-kun was at yesterday’s heist?” He watched the rise and fall of Kuroba’s chest pause as his breath stuttered for a second. “Or perhaps you weren’t aware,” Saguru said. “He saw you shot down.” Blunt because there was no way to say it kindly. “He is still unaware that you are Kid.”

“Shit…” Kuroba’s fingers clenched in the sheets.

“Aoko-san is forbidding Takumi-kun to visit you for a while.”

“Of course she is.” A glance showed that Kuroba’s eyes were closed and his mouth twisted in a grimace. “Is she also on her way to arrest me?”

“She doesn’t know where you are,” Saguru said. “And I’ve done my best to keep your family name from being mentioned.”

“It probably doesn’t matter. Kudo’s had hours to think and draw connections by now,” Kuroba muttered. “Thanks for trying.”

Saguru made a noncommittal sound in his throat, brushing the thanks aside. “The police are aware that you have been shot, but no more than that so far as I am aware. Kudo claimed to have sent a friend to clean up your crash site. As such, hopefully there will be no evidence to be found from there. And as for your mysterious sniper,” Saguru said, examining the way Kuroba’s clenched fist turned his hand almost bloodless and made the IV stark against it, “no one seems to have a clue. They’ve vanished, but at least they didn’t find you before I did.”

“Of course,” Kuroba repeated. “Were there any other casualties?”

“Not that I heard.” Kudo or Aoko would have mentioned if someone had died last night. “There were likely injuries, but no one died.”

Kuroba’s hand clenched a fraction tighter before relaxing slowly. “Good.”

Tentatively, Saguru reached out. His fingers brushed the back of Kuroba’s hand and something tight within him relaxed when Kuroba’s hand turned under his so that their palms could touch. “How are you feeling?” Saguru asked, finally focusing on Kuroba’s face. Tired eyes blinked behind the white mask.

“About as shitty as I look,” Kuroba said. “Opioids are great at making your head float, but even they don’t stop you from feeling a bullet wound. I don’t want to stay on them either.”

Saguru winced in sympathy. Having one bullet wound was bad enough, let alone multiple…

“I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere fast for a while,” Kuroba sighed.

“I would say not.”

Kuroba squinted at him. “You don’t look too good either.”

Saguru grimaced. “Yes, well…” He shrugged.

“How many crime scenes have you been around since…?”

“A few.” During the investigation of Mel’s murder at least.

“…Guess we’ll both have shit sleep for a while.”

Saguru smiled wryly at that. Trust Kuroba to lighten the mood rather than digging to make it deeper. “I’m glad you’re alright,” he said. It came out too raw, all the emotion he was trying hard not to look too closely at lurking in the roughness of his voice and the way he couldn’t help but grip Kuroba’s hand the slightest bit tighter. Saguru closed his eyes feeling vulnerable. “I can’t watch you die.”

“Hakuba…”

It was unnerving how much things overlapped with the memories of Mel’s death. Sniper fire, theft case, suspicious gaps in security, sniper location unclear… A broken body and trying to keep it from bleeding out… He was gripping Kuroba’s hand too tightly considering his wounds and the IV in it. He made to pull away, to retreat and regroup his emotions, but Kuroba followed his hand even as it forced him to use abused muscles.

“Hakuba,” Kuroba said again, serious. Saguru couldn’t look at him.

He wasn’t ashamed. There wasn’t shame in feeling fear for being hurt by loss. There wasn’t shame in caring for Kuroba either. If anything, Saguru felt more like a child that had been caught doing something unadvisable; embarrassed and guilty, and a bit scared of potential consequences. “Yes?” he mumbled, looking firmly at a point half a meter to the left of Kuroba’s face.

“I can’t make you any promises,” Kuroba said. That was fine, Saguru didn’t expect promises.

“Well,” Saguru said, trying to diffuse the growing tension in the air, “I am sure you do not want to die any more than I want to see you dying.” Kuroba shouldn’t be comforting him. Not when Kuroba was the one who had brushed against death yet again.

Kuroba took a breath and then let it out as there was a soft knock on the door. Ran peeked inside, the heavy earthenware pot from earlier supported in a potholder in her hands. Saguru sat straight as Kid’s masks made a valiant effort to return to his face. Surreptitiously, he slid his hand back into his lap.

“Kid-san,” Ran said with a small smile, “Haibara-san says you can have something to eat. I made okayu. It should be easy on your stomach in case the anesthetics bothered it.”

“Thank you, Ran-chan,” Kuroba said with a shadow of Kid’s usual grin. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Would it help if I fed you or…?” She held out the bowl. Kuroba’s left hand flexed and he tried moving his arm. None of the pain showed on his face, but Saguru plucked the bowl from Ran’s hands before he could do more than lift it a few centimeters.

“I’ll make sure he eats,” Saguru said.

“Thank you, Hakuba-san.” She left them without even the thoughtful look Kudo would have given him. Saguru wasn’t sure if he was relieved about that or not.

“I could probably manage,” Kuroba said.

“You were shot, you shouldn’t be moving either of your arms.”

“Grazed,” Kuroba corrected. “The only direct hit was my leg.”

“You lost a chunk of your shoulder,” Saguru said. “It was a bit more than a graze.” Kuroba didn’t protest further as Saguru held out a spoonful of the rice porridge to him. He swallowed without complaint, moving as little as possible. He must be in a horrible amount of pain if he was letting Saguru win that easily.

Kuroba ate about half the bowl before he grimaced and tilted his head away from another spoonful. Saguru set the bowl aside. He half expected Kuroba to fall asleep, but he stayed awake and aware, thoughts turned inward.

“How much do you remember about last night?” Saguru asked after a while in silence. With a concussion there was no way of knowing how Kuroba’s head would be affected. Memory loss was only the surface of what a head injury could affect.

“Most of it?” Kuroba said. “There was hours of setup, infiltrating the scene… The power glitch went off fine. All the traps on the case were disarmed pretty easily. Too many people so they had some trouble coordinating with each other…” Saguru nodded. That had been a predictable weakness. “I got the stone and the fireworks went off. I had a rig to make it look like I vanished but that failed…” Kuroba paused. “A bomb went off?”

“That’s what it seems to have been,” Saguru agreed. “I was not in the building so I couldn’t say exactly what happened.”

“There was more than one,” Kuroba continued. “The explosions cut off my planned escapes so I headed up.” His eyes went distant, glazed over as he tried to remember. “The winds were good… Did anyone get hurt?”

“I don’t know.” The repeat in question probably meant Kuroba wasn’t quite as lucid as he looked, or maybe he was just thinking out loud as he remembered. Saguru should have asked Aoko when she called. Or Kudo, though Kudo had skipped out on the heist aftermath and might not know all the details either. “Aoko sounded healthy enough over the phone at the least.”

Kuroba nodded, accepting that. If someone was injured, it hadn’t been at his hand and he’d long since come to terms that there would be collateral damage no matter how much he didn’t want there to be. When everything was all over he could examine the guilt and deal with it properly. “Kudo might have been on the roof. It’s a little fuzzy. I checked the stone…” Kuroba jerked upright, winced, and fell back into the pillows looking almost gray from pain. “Shit.”

“What?” Saguru had one hand out, to help Kuroba up or keep him from trying to sit up again, he wasn’t sure.

“The stone. Hakuba. Hakuba, it was _the_ stone.”

“…the one you’ve been looking for?”

“Yes!” Kuroba started shaking and for a second Saguru thought he was having the start of a seizure before breathy, hysterical laughter made it past Kuroba’s clenched jaw. “I’ve been looking. All this time. And it’s been buried for more than a thousand years.” Kuroba grimaced. Laughing clearly was more painful than not. “What the hell.”

“Kuroba…”

“Where’s the stone?” Kuroba asked, hysteria shoved aside as fast as it came.

“…You don’t have it?”

“It wasn’t in my suit pocket? Wait. No. I hid it? I think? Because I knew I could get shot and I couldn’t give it back and I don’t have anything to destroy it yet.” Kuroba squinted at nothing as he strained his brain to remember. It made Saguru reach out, like that would make it easier, but he waited for more. It took a moment to realize nothing more was coming.

“Is it safe where you put it?” He asked.

“Yes,” Kuroba said slowly. “They aren’t likely to find it without me leading them to it. They probably think I still have it. But on the off chance I don’t, they’ll probably have the museum watched for a while. It wouldn’t be safe to retrieve it anyway.”

Saguru nodded, not pressing any further. Kuroba looked strained around the edges now, eyes glassy and one hand gripping the blankets with white knuckles. “You found what you were looking for though. And you lived through it. That’s the important part.”

Kuroba huffed a laugh that sounded about as painful as it looked. “It’s far from over though. God. Almost eighteen years, Hakuba. I’ve been Kid a decade longer than Oyaji played the role.” He lapsed into silence and Saguru let him. It was a private emotional pain on Kuroba’s face mixed with the physical. It felt like speaking would be the same as walking over a grave. Kuroba’s eyes opened. “But living through it is the important part.”

“Quite.” Saguru cleared his throat and reached for the okayu again. “Speaking of living, eat a bit more?”

“Sure, I’d love to feel even worse.” Kuroba shook his head. “No, I’d probably throw up. I don’t think either of us wants that to happen.”

“Rather defeats the purpose of eating.” Kuroba’s blinks were becoming heavier, energy already spent from the brief conversation. Saguru didn’t want to leave, but it was in Kuroba’s best interests to let him rest. “I’ll take the rest of this back to Kudo-san. Kudo Ran-san.”

“Thanks, ‘Kuba,” Kuroba said. His eyes slid shut, blinked open, slid shut. “…Takumi’s ok though?”

“He was uninjured. Mentally…I assume he hasn’t run into anything like last night before?”

“No. Tried to keep him safe. Have a normal life.”

“…I’ll look after him as best I can.” How he’d manage this with school out could be determined at a later date.

“Thanks.” Kuroba’s eyes stayed shut this time.

“Rest up, Kuroba. I’ll be back later.” He got a hum in response as Kuroba drifted closer to sleep again. Hopefully it would help with the pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saguru forgot to call Aoko and she is Rightfully Mad.  
> Also. Give Ran and Shinichi daughters. I'm sure they get into plenty of trouble just like their parents.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the support ^_^ You readers are awesome. I didn't manage to answer people last week, but I will do my best to do so this week (just know I read every comment more than once and they make me smile :) )

Takumi was sitting at the kitchen table with both Kudo daughters when Saguru went looking for him. Ran was elsewhere in the house and he had passed Kudo in the study on his way. Takumi looked up from watching the girls draw at the sound of Saguru’s borrowed cane. Saguru hadn’t stopped to think much about how the last twenty four hours were affecting Takumi before, but now that he was sure Kuroba wasn’t going to die at any moment, he could see signs of strain. Takumi looked like he had slept worse than Saguru, dark circles under his eyes, and there was a listlessness to how he had been watching the girls. It shifted to focus and worry as Saguru entered the room.

“Is Kid…?” Takumi asked vaguely.

“Better,” Saguru said. “He won’t be moving for a while, but for the moment he is stable and aware enough.”

“Good.” Takumi slumped. Midori elbowed him as he covered part of her paper and Takumi shifted away without complaint. “Before we go, can I see him? Just… The only time I saw him up close, he was bleeding out…”

“Of course.” Seeing Kid alive if not well might help ease Takumi’s mind.

“Kid’s the thief Tou-san’s always chasing right?” Midori asked. “The one in white?”

“Yes, Kid is a thief in white,” Saguru said.

“Oh. I like him. He left Kaa-san flowers once,” Midori said drawing a flower then, probably meant to be one of Kuroba’s roses if the red color was anything to go by. “It’s sad he got hurt.”

“He’ll get better,” Hanae said. She smacked down the green crayon she had been using to grab a brown one. Stripey brown lines branched out from the mass of green swirls. “He always gets away. Tou-san says.” Her sister nodded like this had to be the only conclusion since Kudo’s word was truth.

“I’m sure he will,” Saguru said hoping it would be the truth. He squished the part of his brain reciting facts about recovery times and infection rates, about how his own infected bullet wound had ruined his knee worse than it would have otherwise been. He was allowed to hope against the odds. Saguru looked to Takumi. “Did you want to see Kid now? I know we can’t stay here much longer. Aoko-san is worried and I still have to turn in my report on last night.”

Takumi nodded. He followed Saguru from the kitchen. “Hakuba-sensei,” Takumi murmured as they neared Kid’s room. “What are you going to put on the reports?”

“Kid escaped. He was shot down, but the site was clear when we arrived.” Saguru glanced sidelong at Takumi’s troubled expression. “That Kid is most likely injured but got away with the gem. Neither of us saw anything.”

The frown deepened. “…even to Kaa-san?”

“No, I’ll tell her the full truth.”

“…It feels wrong,” Takumi said so quietly Saguru almost didn’t hear him. “Kaa-san always told me it was important to tell the truth to the police.”

Saguru sighed. “Sometimes it’s more complicated than truth or lies. Sometimes truths can kill and lies save, and sometimes they make things worse. It’s something you’ll have to judge on your own. In this case it’s better not to say everything for both Kid and our sakes. We did help a criminal after all.”

“To save his life,” Takumi said. “And Kudo-san helped too.”

“Exactly.”

Takumi frowned at him, but he set the topic aside as they reached Kid’s room. Kuroba was asleep again, not peacefully though. A grimace of discomfort showed on the small part of his face not hidden by the mask. Takumi took one step into the room and stared like he was trying to decode something from Kuroba’s mass of bandages.

“I…somehow I didn’t think it was possible for Kid to get hurt badly,” Takumi admitted. “He’s practically a legend at this point.”

“It’s easy to forget there’s someone mortal behind the mask,” Saguru said, because he had almost forgotten as well over the years, more intent on Kid than remembering Kuroba existed behind him.

There was scuffling behind them and Midori and Hanae poked their heads into the room. They craned their necks at Kid in the bed.

“He’s not very big,” Hanae said, sounding disappointed.

“Are you supposed to be here?” Saguru asked.

“Kaa-san didn’t say we couldn’t,” Midori said. She tugged on Takumi’s arm and lifted her hands so she could be held up. Takumi did, though he looked at Saguru like he was trying to figure out if this was okay or not. Midori made a soft unhappy sound when she was high enough to see Kid clearly. “He looks sad.”

“He’s a thief. He should be sad because he’s in a detective’s house,” Hanae said. “Once he’s healthy he’ll probably get arrested.”

“I’m gonna draw him a picture.” Midori wiggled in Takumi’s arms until he set her down again and she pointed at Kid. “What does he like?”

“Er. Gems?” Takumi said.

“Birds,” Saguru suggested. “He keeps doves.”

Midori nodded and tugged her sister away. Hanae went complaining the whole way that, “He’s a bad guy, Midori, why are we cheering him up?”

Takumi looked after them, his face scrunched somewhere between bewildered and reluctantly amused. “I’m kind of glad I don’t have siblings after all,” he said.

Kuroba shifted in the bed, discomfort growing on his face. It made Saguru want to smooth it away but it was far far better than the blankness of unconsciousness. “Have you seen enough?” Saguru asked.

Takumi looked back at Kid. It was surprising that he didn’t cross the room and try to peek under Kid’s mask. At his age, Saguru wouldn’t have hesitated to satisfy his curiosity. “Yeah,” Takumi said. “I’ve seen enough.”

***

It was a quiet trip to Aoko’s. They both had thoughts on their mind, and the closer they got to Aoko in Ekoda, the more nervous Takumi became. Saguru didn’t blame him; he was also nervous to see Aoko face to face. An angry Aoko was more than a little intimidating. He shouldn’t have to worry about dodging mops these days at least.

Aoko was on them within seconds of Takumi opening the front door. Saguru didn’t think she’d slept at all last night from the looks of it, her eyes red rimmed and hands just a bit shaky the way limbs got after too much caffeine and adrenaline mixing badly together. Her hair was a mess of wild tangles that made her look larger and Saguru found himself taking a step back at her desperate expression. She crushed Takumi into an embrace the moment she was within arm’s reach.

“You absolute idiot,” she growled. “I raised you to be smarter than that. You could have died.”

Takumi tentatively hugged her back with the arm not trapped between their bodies. “I’m sorry, Kaa-san.”

“You’d better be you brat,” Aoko choked. There were tears in her eyes. Saguru looked away. There wasn’t anywhere to go to give them privacy. “You’re grounded. Indefinitely.”

Takumi nodded into her shoulder, clinging closer.

“You’re okay? You’re not hurt?”

And this time Takumi choked on tears. “I’m fine. I’m…I was so scared…” He shifted so he could hold her with both arms just as tight as she was holding him. “The building exploded and I didn’t know where you were. People were screaming and you were still in there. And then Kid got shot and there was so much blood.” He was crying in earnest now and Aoko held him close as he let go of all the fear and worry from the last twelve hours.

Aoko rocked back and forth on her heels as Takumi cried. There were tears in her eyes but she was glaring fiercely past his shoulder at nothing even as her voice was gentle. “It’s over now. I’m okay. You’re okay. It’s all over.” Saguru wasn’t sure how long they held each other as Saguru tried to blend into the wall. Eventually, Takumi’s tears slowed and Aoko’s rocking stopped and they pulled apart. Aoko wiped tears from Takumi’s face with her handkerchief. “Go to the kitchen and get yourself a cup of tea,” she said to her son. “It will help.”

Takumi nodded and slid his shoes off before walking toward the kitchen, still wiping at his face.

Aoko looked after him like she wanted to snatch him back into a hug again. As soon as he was out of sight though, she rounded on Saguru. Worry morphed back into rage. “You should have said the moment you realized he was on site.”

Saguru winced. “Aoko-san, it was only a few minutes before the heist began. I only glimpsed him on the security cameras; I had to go see that it really was him.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

It was, but what would Aoko have done? Stopped coordinating the entire heist? She was the central driving force, everyone else pivoted around her and Saguru wasn’t really needed anywhere. “I found him and I tried to get him out before the heist,” Saguru said. “It was inevitable that we got caught up in the fallout.”

Aoko shook her head. It had been inevitable though, if not caught in the heist itself, then the crowds of panicking people instead. “Then you should have called as soon as you were out of danger. Or as soon as Kid was out of danger, dammit. You’re such a fucking hypocrite. Or did someone else make me promise I’d call if I knew anything about Kid so we could keep each other up to date?” She snorted at Saguru’s flinch. “I thought so. God I’m just so…Rrgh. Fuck Kid.” She ran her hands though her hair, tangling it further.

“I should have called,” Saguru said. “I forgot. I am sorry.”

“Fat lot of good sorry does anyone,” Aoko said tiredly. “How bad?”

“Expect months of recovery.”

“Damn it. I hate him. I hate him so much.”

 _You do but you don’t_ , Saguru thought as she wrapped her arms around herself.

“You’re not going to tell me where he is, are you?”

“It is probably best for everyone involved if you don’t know where he’s at for the moment.” It wasn’t that he thought Aoko would arrest Kuroba or actually try to kill him, but having Aoko show up right now would be the last thing Kuroba needed for his health.

“Fine.” Aoko closed her eyes. “Fine. Can you leave? Please.”

“I’ll leave immediately.” He did just that, backing away toward the door only to be stopped by Aoko’s voice when he touched the doorknob.

“Hakuba. I need your report on the heist within the next twenty four hours. Write an official one and one for my eyes only please.”

“Of course. …May I ask the casualty rate from last night?”

“No one died. I have two officers that are in critical condition and half a dozen others hospitalized. Five people in the crowds ended up in the hospital from the panic. Dozens more have minor injuries.”

“Thank you.” Kuroba would hate to hear this. “Goodbye, Aoko-san.”

She didn’t say anything else, so Saguru left. He wondered if there would only be animosity between them after this. Aoko was not a friend, but he hoped he had not forever lost the possibility of her becoming one.

***

Saguru stopped at his apartment before heading back to Kudo’s. He stood in his entryway for a good five minutes feeling the emptiness of the room pressing in on him. It struck him again that he’d almost lost Kuroba last night. There would have been no more evening conversations over tea or random gifts of food left on his kitchen counter or that specific double tap on his door that when Kuroba was using his manners instead of barging in. Just four short months and Kuroba had become a center point in his life.

There was something wrong with him because the thought of losing Kuroba felt almost on par with losing Mel had been, with only a fraction of the history to account for that feeling.

Saguru stood in the shadows of the entryway where the light from the afternoon sun didn’t reach and considered it rationally; love was love regardless of the time experiencing it. And he was in love with Kuroba. There wasn’t a point in deluding himself to that reality anymore. The emotions wouldn’t go anywhere. Saguru didn’t expect them to and friendship was enough between them, but he couldn’t deny the existence of his emotions anymore either.

The soft golden light of afternoon peeking through the window didn’t really fit the weight of this revelation. But then so rarely did nature choose to align with emotional turmoil outside of popular media.

Saguru loved Kuroba and had almost lost him; if it was in his power, he would not lose someone he loved like that again.

***

Saguru broke into Kuroba’s apartment to gather changes of clothes and other things Kuroba might need. Kuroba’s things joined Saguru’s own in a large cloth grocery bag repurposed into a makeshift suitcase. He wasn’t sure all what to bring; clothing and toiletries were obvious, but anything else was anyone’s guess what Kuroba would want. Saguru added the mp3 player he found on Kuroba’s bedside table. With a concussion he wouldn’t be able to do anything mentally taxing for a while, but music could straddle the line between entertaining and relaxing.

He took the time to update both his mother and Kuroba’s on the heist fallout, and then he was off again, headed back to Kudo’s home.

Kudo raised an eyebrow at Saguru’s bag but didn’t comment on it. It was rather rude for Saguru to invite himself to stay longer, but rudeness be damned, he’d sleep better within shouting distance of Kuroba.

After settling his things into a guest room offered by Ran and getting Kuroba’s things to him, Saguru sat down with Kudo and his wife in their study, children thankfully elsewhere for the moment.

“Takumi-kun got back to his mother in one piece?” Kudo asked lightly.

“More or less. I am afraid I’m in bad graces with her at the moment as well. I imagine this will make parent teacher interactions even more awkward in the future.” Saguru sighed. “Takumi-kun is my student,” he added when Kudo raised an eyebrow.

“An interesting bit of luck ending up the teacher to Kaitou Kid’s son.”

“You have no idea.” What sort of expression would Kudo make if Saguru revealed they were neighbors? That would be giving too much away though, and they were at least pretending that they couldn’t easily pick apart Kid’s identity like freeing a boiled egg from a fault-littered shell.

“…You know Kid pretty well, right?” Kudo asked.

“Well enough.” Not well enough; Kuroba kept himself a step away even as he had opened up around Saguru. There would always be depths to him that Saguru wouldn’t be allowed to see.

“How would you say his life is?”

Kudo didn’t look like he was prying to find clues. He looked contemplative, a crease between his brows and a quirk to his lips that spoke more of concern than a desire to tear away the last veils of Kid’s identity. How odd. But then, if Kuroba could become interested in Kudo’s wellbeing after years of interaction it wasn’t really that odd for it to go both ways. Saguru had felt that way even at the height of their rivalry. “It’s very busy,” Saguru said honestly. “He works, has a son, and is Kid. I sometimes wonder at how he functions with as little sleep as he seems to get. He’s a good father even if a bit misguided at times. He’s lonely. He seems to have many acquaintances and few close friends. I’m not sure he knows how to stop wearing masks anymore, or if he’s afraid of what he’d find if he put the roles away.” Kudo’s expression softened into something like sadness or perhaps compassion. If Saguru remembered right, Kudo was someone who caught his criminals, but didn’t let them throw their lives away. It was something that had tipped Saguru’s opinion a bit more toward favor. Even if he had once pointed a gun on Kid. “Why?”

“We’ve talked a few times. He’s come close to breaking before…I was wondering if it was still true or if life got better since we last talked.”

Ah. Between Aoko’s divorce and Jii’s death, he could see it straining Kuroba to near shattering. It was a miracle he hadn’t broken unlike Saguru’s own breakdown. “I’ve seen him smile and laugh and mean it. There are bad days, but good ones too.”

“I’m glad.” Kudo shared a smile with Ran then and Saguru again got the feeling that he was missing something vital in Kuroba’s history with the Kudo family. There were possibilities he could speculate on, but without proof he wouldn’t put weight into any of them.

But there was Kuroba now to think about. The past would keep its mysteries. “He’s going to be recovering for a long time,” Saguru said. “Can you keep him here until he can move on his own?”

A wealth of meaning shifted between Kudo and Ran before Ran shrugged slightly. “It isn’t a problem,” Kudo said. “He’s welcome here.”

“And so are you,” Ran added.

“Thank you.” It was more than generous for them to do this. “Kudo-san, about last night…the crash site; it’s been cleaned up?”

“I called in a few favors,” Kudo said. “There might still be traces of blood, but nothing usable to track back to him.”

Good. Saguru nodded. “That should buy some time then… The ones who set everything up are likely wondering if he lived or not.”

“No body means they’re going to play it toward him living,” Shinichi observed. “The gem?”

“Kid hid it.”

Kudo nodded. “I was surprised he went with the roof, but I guess he wasn’t given much choice in his escape route. The bombs pretty much ensured he could only flee up, and where the bomb damage wasn’t there were officers cutting off his route. The weather was too perfect for the glider too. It felt like an obvious setup.”

“He was flying a bit off the best direction of the wind. That might have been what saved him.” Saguru tried to recreate the trajectories of Kuroba’s entrance wounds. Gliding the direction he had been, with the angle of the wounds… “Kudo-san, do you happen to have a map? I’m curious what buildings the sniper might have been at. I know Ao—Nakamori-keibu had a watch at certain perimeter trying to keep the chance of a sniper down.” Saguru stumbled over Aoko’s name and pretended he hadn’t.

Kudo pulled out his phone, fiddling with it to bring up a map of the area. He set it on the coffee table between them. “This is the museum,” Kudo said. “And Kid left in this direction…” His finger scrolled the map forward.

“You found us about here, correct?” Saguru asked, pointing to what appeared to be the correct alley.

“Yes. Depending on Kid’s speed, he’d have to have been hit within this radius to crash there…” Kudo traced a circle above the phone.

“Meaning his shooter had to be within a certain radius to hit him.”

“Exactly.”

“Fifteen hundred meter radius?”

“Extend it a bit further to be on the safe side…” They bent forward over the phone, studying it intently. “The damage is worse on the right side.”

“Half from the crash, but I concede to your point; the bullet wounds come from that angle. It was a taller building. The entry wounds were almost even with his height.”

“Mm. Maybe a bit from below…too straight for his leg wound otherwise….” Kudo shifted the map around before they both agreed on a potential area. “I know this area. The tallest building around there is an office building.”

“It’s outside of Nakamori-keibu’s radius too.” Saguru felt the tingle of satisfaction that piecing pieces together always gave him. It was paired with the gut feeling that the sniper’s location had been important. He zoomed closer. Ambrosia Industries? It was foreign, and it also sounded vaguely familiar for some reason… He’d had a case that involved them at one point, he was pretty sure, but it had to have been a very long time ago.

“Something wrong?” Kudo asked. Saguru looked up into sharp-focused eyes. He also looked like he was on the edge of some sort of connection.

“I’ve heard of the company before.” When though? Not in Japan, in London, back, far back.

Kudo took the phone and looked the company up. “Ambrosia Industries…Not much on them.”

“They make cosmetics don’t they?” Ran asked, leaning in. Saguru had almost forgotten she was there. “Sonoko has a few things from their brand. She said they had the best anti-aging creams.”

A cosmetics company? That sparked something. Saguru took the phone from Shinichi. Yes, under the international subsidiaries was a different name. Elysium. “I had a case almost fifteen years ago looking into an employee from Elysium. My client thought that the employee had stolen her research data, but there hadn’t been any clear trail to link that they were using it in their formulas.” He frowned. “That was the case I got my knee shot out.” A bit further down on the list was another name he remembered. He gripped the phone tight. “And I was investigating a theft from Progenetics almost a year ago when…when my partner was killed.”

“That’s…” Kudo’s brow furrowed.

“It is entirely possible for that to be circumstantial and unrelated.” Saguru handed the phone back. The rest of the names didn’t spark any memories, though there was always the possibility that there were other connections. “It makes me wonder, though, as all three instances involved gunmen.”

“I have come across a few of these places,” Kudo said slowly. “Murder cases.”

Of course murders. Kudo worked almost exclusively with murders. “Thefts for me.”

“They were mostly crimes of passion though; the setting didn’t seem important to them. There was one that was one employee killing the other though. They never explained why, just turned themselves in.” Kudo tapped his chin.

“It would be a bit odd to use the roof of a place you were associated with to attempt a murder,” Saguru said.

“Or it could be the perfect cover because it would be unexpected.” Kudo shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Right. Kudo had taken out an international crime organization before he was twenty. He was probably something of an expert on shadowy dealings and large scale crime rings. “Kudo-san, how much do you know about what Kid is searching for?”

“Only that it is a large gemstone and that there is another interested party.”

“There was more than one Kid,” Ran added softly.

Kudo’s eyes flicked to her and he nodded. “The first Kid was active about seven years internationally before he vanished. The second Kid appeared eight years later and was much younger than the first. A protégé perhaps, since his methodology and skills are very similar to the first. With the sort of people that follow Kid, I can guess that the first Kid either died or was crippled.”

“He died,” Saguru said bluntly. “In what appeared to be an accident. A very public accident. His identity was found out by the organization chasing him and they ensured he wouldn’t be able to defy them again. How Kid has avoided something similar happening, I have no idea. Perhaps because he has made no effort to stand out in his civilian life.” It was too easy to picture ‘accidents’ happening to Aoko or Kuroba or Takumi, leaving nothing but blank eyed corpses behind. With Aoko it would not even be hard to arrange. Perhaps they had already tried, but with all the danger already present in Aoko’s day to day life, it had fallen into one more close call among many.

“The second Kid was a teenager when he first appeared,” Ran said. “Both Shinichi and I got close often enough to figure that much out.”

“He was sixteen when he first took Kid’s mantle.” All three of them winced at the implications. It was funny in a way; at the time it wouldn’t have felt odd. They had all been teenagers that ran into danger on a regular basis. The violent side of humanity and its dark possibilities were very real presences and dangers in their lives. And yet at sixteen they had felt adults already. At over thirty, looking back they had all been barely more than children dealing with things that they would have tried to protect their younger selves from now. “He’s spent the last decade and a half trying to take down a crime organization on his own.”

Kudo and Ran exchanged a look, Kudo’s questioning, Ran’s accepting. “I owe Kid,” Kudo said after a moment. “Not many people know this, but he helped several times in taking down the Black Organization. Not always willingly.” Kudo rubbed a hand through his hair. It stood up at the back, for a moment making him look much more like Kuroba. “I said I wouldn’t get involved in anything at that scale again if I could help it.” Kudo looked Saguru in the eyes, clearly struggling.

Oh. “He’s bad at accepting help,” Saguru said drily, “but at this point I don’t think he has much of a choice. Kudo-san, I don’t want to see Kid die. I’ve permanently lost the person I care for most in the last year, and then alienated the majority of my friends through my own actions; I don’t intend to lose anyone else. If that means coming out of retirement and going against a crime organization of an unknown size and reach, I will do it. I have far less to lose these days than I did before.” As he said the words, the resolution that had been building in him since he knew Kuroba had survived solidified. He had failed to save Mel or get him justice. His detective pursuits may very well have gotten Mel killed. But if there was any chance that his skills could help Kuroba, he would use them. Even with such a large chance of failing. “Would you be willing to help me in this?”

“I…” Kudo trailed off. He looked at the phone in his hands. “You’d be surprised how many detectives care about Kid. More than we should considering we try to catch him time after time. He causes chaos and dangerous people follow him, but Kid doesn’t use guns, does his best to not hurt anyone be it bystander or officer doing their job…” It was hard to be indifferent or remain angry at someone you interacted with for over a decade even if said interactions were anything but friendly. “I care. I’ll hide Kid here until he recovers completely if that’s what he needs. But…”

“I’m not asking for you to take an active role rooting out the shadows,” Saguru said. “I need your mind and your connections; those will be more than enough. I intend to do as much legwork as I can myself.” He was aware of the irony, a man with a cane doing the legwork, but for Kuroba he’d do it.

Ran touched Kudo’s elbow. Kudo swallowed thickly. “I can provide connections and help talk over whatever you find. I’d offer more, but I can’t be open about working on this, not with a family.”

“I understand.”

“I can make sure Kid is taken care of in the meantime,” Ran said.

Saguru nodded, grateful. His mind spun plans, poked at connections as he closed his eyes. Fragmentary details stood out at him—snipers and connected companies and the multitude of wounds Kuroba has had since Saguru returned to Japan. Aoko’s angry face, Kuroba’s locked bedroom door and equally locked closet, accidents that were not accidents, Jii’s death, Kuroba Chikage’s absence from this heist, Kudo’s half smile when he talked about Kid and the years spent chasing him. Nothing clicked yet, but it was a start. “We will have to talk to Kid. Undoubtedly he has evidence we can work with.” He had almost two decades to throw himself at the problem; he had to have gotten somewhere with it. But Kuroba wasn’t a detective, and he didn’t have the connections he needed to take down a large scale organization. He was smart enough that he likely put most of the pieces together by now, but that didn’t mean he could do anything with it on his own.

“He’s probably asleep again,” Ran said. “Ai-san has him resting as much as possible so it might be a while before you can talk.”

“I understand. He has a lot of recovering to do.” And there were other things Saguru could do. Namely talk to his father; he wanted his perspective as well as Kudo’s on taking down a large scale criminal enterprise. And there was one other thing to take care of while he was at the manor. “I think,” he said slowly, “I have one more errand to do today after all.”

“Okay,” Kudo said. “Do what you need to do. I have a write up to do for the Kid task force, so I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

“Ah.” Ran pulled out a slip of paper. “And our cell phone numbers if you need to get in touch.”

“Thank you.” He quickly entered the numbers into his phone and sent along his own contact info in a text. “Let me know if anything changes while I am gone?”

“Of course.” Ran smiled. Kudo was already lost looking up something on his phone again, the sharp thinking face firmly in place.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter chapter, but I come bearing extras, so it balances out right??

There was a reporter camped out in front of the manor, but Saguru had called ahead for a car, so it wasn’t a problem. In the rush of everything that had happened, he’d all but forgotten the media’s eyes in his direction. Mum met him at the door, a streak of dirt on the side of her nose. She must have been gardening.

“Saguru, get in before the photographer gets a picture.”

“Of what? Me visiting my family?” Saguru raised an eyebrow as Mum herded him through the doorway.

“Most of them left last night, but there’s still that one stubborn woman out there for who knows what reason. Best not to give her anything to work with.” Mum looked him up and down. “You look like hell.”

“Mum!” She hardly ever swore.

Mum waved away his half-scandalized look. “I’m surprised you’re here. You said you were going to keep an eye on your thief.”

“And I intend to do so. I just remembered something that I needed to talk to Otou-san about.” He let Mum hurry him along down the hall toward wherever she wanted to take them. Sometimes it was just easier to just accept it.

“Your father?” Her eyes narrowed. Well, Saguru supposed he spent far more time talking to his mother than his father these days.

“Yes,” he said, face neutral as he could make it. “And are the boxes of my things from the London apartment still in my old room?”

“Yes. They are.” The assessing look continued. He could all but feel her trying to pick apart his mental state from what she could glean from his words and body. “What did you need from them?”

“My watch.” Both her eyebrows went up. That watch had been a gift from his maternal grandfather. A time piece from a time obsessed man. It was given to him after his first official case with the thought that a detective always needed to know the time. He’d worn it on every case he had been involved in since. When he moved to Japan, he’d left it with his other things, one more step toward putting the past behind him and letting go.

“I can find it,” Mum said. She patted Saguru’s arm. “You go see your father. He’s in the study.”

He was almost always in the study. Since his retirement, Saguru’s father spent most of his time researching things to pass the time. Saguru thought he might be working on a book, but if he was, his father had never mentioned it or shared anything. Saguru parted ways with Mum at the stairwell.

His father was poring over a large volume of old court records. He lifted reading glasses from his nose as Saguru entered, face giving away nothing more than patient attention. “Saguru, I wasn’t aware that you were visiting tonight.”

“I hadn’t planned on it,” Saguru said with a tight smile. “I have a few questions to run by you.”

A spark of curiosity lit in his father’s eyes. He gestured toward one of the empty armchairs. “Ask and I’ll do my best to answer. How did the heist go last night? Your mother said you were attending. Haven’t had a chance to look at a paper yet.”

“Terribly,” Saguru said. “The museum was bombed and Kid was shot.” He all but collapsed into the soft embrace of overstuffed cushions. “He’s alive, but it was a close thing.”

“Not arrested?”

“Not for the moment. He’s holed up trying to recover. It…he was injured very badly.”

“I see.” He had always kept up with the papers too. They had traded theories over the years about who the snipers might be—another thief, someone Kid had crossed, a hitman hired by someone Kid had stolen from before. An escalation in Kid’s injuries was not a surprise.

“Otou-san, the sniper… I have reason to believe that this is an issue that goes beyond Kid and his heists. Evidence that this could be something global.”

His father went very still. “That would be a very big issue indeed. You have proof?”

“Circumstantial so far, along with a verbal statement from Kid, but with reason to believe that there will soon be much more hard evidence.” Saguru rubbed his knee absently. Surely Kuroba would share what he had. And perhaps Aoko would as well, provided he could persuade her to set aside her anger. Then again, considering how she’d been angry at him for even thinking she’d work against Kaito’s best chance of living, she’d probably haul out what she had in a heartbeat. “It isn’t out of the question to believe law enforcement is in on it. You were commissioner when Kudo brought down the crime syndicate. I remember you mentioning the turmoil that caused the police system.”

“Men who had spent the last twenty years on the force were coming up guilty,” Otou-san said. “You couldn’t trust your own partner, of course it was chaos. I saw so many men and women I knew personally turn out to be leading double lives. I retired five years later, but when that mess came out, I was tempted to retire then and there.” He frowned, one fist clenched on top of his book. “If what you’re saying is true, either we missed people back then, or it’s going to be another mess all over again.”

“I’m not sure how big this group is yet. I’m sure Kid has some idea, but he’s still too injured to have that conversation.”

“It is never as simple as assembling all the clues and the breadcrumbs lining up. It’s more like casting a net and hoping you catch the bulk of what you’re aiming for,” Otou-san sighed. “There’s always going to be someone that slips through the cracks. I hope that anyone on the force aren’t people who evaded last time, because if they are, they’re masters at getting out of trouble and covering their tracks.”

“I am aware of this.” It would be another round of distrust among longtime coworkers and it would be a mess. It would make enemies and break friendships. Saguru intended to follow through with it anyway.

His father studied him from across the desk. “You know, years ago I thought that your obsession with Kid would mean you’d be the one to catch him.”

“I thought so too.” Saguru gave him a wry, lopsided smile. “It seems I am not cut out for that after all.”

“The existence of a crime organization doesn’t erase Kid’s own crimes.”

“No.” It might make them more morally gray, perhaps tip some of his actions toward vigilantism instead of outright theft and larceny, but no less illegal.

His father sighed. He looked more amused than judgmental though, so Saguru counted that as a win. “You always were more interested in picking apart how he did things and his motivations than catching him by any means necessary.”

“I could have caught him last night. It would have meant his certain death. I would rather let the thief run free than have his death on my conscience.”

His father gave him an unimpressed look. “Of course.” He knew Saguru too well to believe that was the only reason, but he wouldn’t prod further. “Who else is aware of this larger issue?”

“Kudo Shinichi. And I have reason to believe Nakamori Aoko also knows.” How could Aoko not? And her father had to have also had some idea of it, but they were both level headed enough when they put their minds to it that they would know it couldn’t be looked into openly. “Everyone on the police force knows snipers show up to Kid heists. It’s been put down to rivalry and Kid making enemies over the years, which is not wrong, but doesn’t view the full scope.”

“Kudo Shinichi, eh?” Otou-san lifted an eyebrow with a small smile. He had relaxed slightly at hearing the other names. They had had many conversations over Kudo’s techniques and Otou-san knew Saguru’s kneejerk distaste for Kudo’s one-time methods against Kid.

Saguru cleared his throat, embarrassed. “I may have misjudged Kudo and his stance on Kid a bit.”

His father huffed a soft laugh, then to Saguru’s surprise, he rounded the desk. He placed a hand on Saguru’s shoulder. “I’m glad to see you looking more yourself,” he said.

“Otou-san…”

“It’s good to have you back.” His hand squeezed tight in a reassuring manner before letting go. “Now I know I’m retired, but if you need me to use any of my connections, I’m sure I could find some people still willing to help.”

“I haven’t even said I was investigating yet,” Saguru said, though he couldn’t help but smile, warmth filling him. His father was a serious man who showed his care in small gestures and few words. He did care though, had shown it when Saguru became a detective, when he came out, when he got married, and when he had lost Mel. Having his support again now meant a lot.

“As if you would sit back when it’s Kid’s life on the line,” Otou-san said. “Kid has always been your exception.”

“I’m that predictable, am I?”

“When it comes to Kaitou Kid? Yes.”

“Thank you, Otou-san.”

His father waved him off, returning back to his desk and whatever he had been occupied in. “Just bring the group down. We can’t have that level of crime and corruption running around again. It’s bad enough with yakuza and whatnot.”

Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, Saguru stood to leave. “Of course.”

***

Mum was in his old bedroom when he went looking for her. She had his watch like promised, and a few other things laid out besides. One of them was the silly Sherlock Holmes pin that Mel had gotten him at one point—for a birthday? Just because? Why didn’t really matter now. He used to have it pinned to his coat, on the inside like a private joke between the two of them. She’d also found some letters she’d sent to Mel over the years. He’d always been someone to keep that sort of thing.

Mum looked up at Saguru with a bittersweet sort of smile on her face.

Saguru took the watch and pin from her and let her pull him into a hug.

“Thought you might want to take a bit of him with you again too,” Mum said, in defense of the pin.

The pin sat in the center of his palm, innocuous. Yes. Yes, he did want that. The pin felt heavy as he pinned it inside his shirt pocket where only he would know it was there. If the pin felt heavy, the watch felt like returning a missing piece to its rightful place. Its solidity and smooth metal casing slid into his pocket like it had never left and with it, some part of himself slid back into place. All the insistence in the world that he was retired, even to himself, but it felt so much better to wear the watch. _One more time_ , he thought. _I’ll be a detective one more time to see this through._

“I found your wedding rings too,” Mum said. They were in a small unmarked box, his and Mel’s. Saguru took it from her and looked at the gold bands inside, dull and worn because they’d both been active people and rings got wear and tear after a decade.

He closed the box and slid it into his pocket. He’d left them because it had hurt to remember. He’d accepted that memories could heal as well as hurt by now, so it didn’t hurt near as much as he thought it would to hold them again. There was regret that it had been cut short and a stab of heartbreak and loneliness, but also the warmth of remembering those bands on their hands, linked fingers glinting gold together. He’d promised Mel’s memory he wouldn’t be a detective again. It hadn’t really been Mel he’d been promising to, though. Mel had always encouraged him to keep being a detective no matter what held him back. Even if it had led to Mel’s death in a sideways fashion, Mel probably still would have encouraged him to keep doing it. Just like Saguru had encouraged Mel to pursue theatre even though they both knew it could cost Mel his parents’ support. The promise to give up had been one more way Saguru had been trying to stop the cracks inside from spreading. A promise to himself that he wouldn’t let detective work destroy what he loved again. It was okay to break that promise now because it was being used to protect what he loved.

“Thank you, Mum.”

She shook her head and pulled him into another hug. “Go solve your mystery. Catch who you need to catch.” He shouldn’t bother feeling surprised. Both of his parents knew what the watch meant to him. “It’s for Kid isn’t it?”

“For and not against?” Saguru asked.

“I read the morning paper, Love. It must have been hard to watch Kid get hurt.”

She had no idea.

Mum held him at arm’s length. “I can’t say I’m surprised that he’s the one pulling you back. He always did bring out your impulsiveness.” Moving halfway across the world in the middle of a school year could definitely be seen as impulsive.

“It isn’t just impulse, Mum,” Saguru sighed.

“Of course not.” She rubbed his upper arms. “Pass along my love to Kuroba and hope for a quick recovery?”

Saguru gaped.

Mum laughed at him. “Saguru, dear, you’re not subtle. Kid and Kuroba bring about the same responses in you. I’d have to be blind to miss how you feel about Kuroba, and only that strong of emotions could send you back to your detective work.”

“I don’t. He isn’t…” Bah, both things were lies and he had never been good at lying to his mother. Saguru centered his thoughts and brought his tongue back under control. “May I state for the record that I have still not unmasked Kid, and as such, I do not technically know without a doubt that Kid is Kuroba?”

“You can state away, we both know you don’t have to see something with your own eyes to have conclusive evidence.”

Saguru grimaced.

Mum patted him on the shoulder. “I don’t plan on telling anyone, so stop making that face. Besides, I liked him when I met him, and you like him enough to bend your rigid moral compass, so that’s enough for me to keep quiet right there.” She tilted her head. “I notice you’re not disclaiming your attraction this time around.”

“No, I’m not,” Saguru agreed. God he was tired. Too many things over the last twenty-four hours. Far too many things. “I’ll admit that I am more than a bit fond of Kuroba.”

“It’s not a bad thing.”

“No.” And it wasn’t. It made him feel vulnerable and a bit scared to admit, especially after how close Kuroba had come to dying, but. “It feels too fast. It’s barely been a full year since Mel yet. And here I am falling for someone else after only a few months of friendship.”

“A few months of friendship and more than half your lifetime keeping track of any news you got of him. When you look at it that way, it’s not so fast after all.”

Saguru wasn’t sure if he agreed with that viewpoint or not. Either way, he nodded, conceding her point. “Do you think he’d understand?” he asked, touching the pin hidden in his pocket absently.

Mum looped an arm around Saguru’s waist in a half hug. “He always called Kid ‘your’ thief, so I think he would understand that it was Kuroba.”

Hearing it from Mum helped. He relaxed into her hug long past what would ordinarily be socially acceptable. He needed it though. “I don’t want to lose him. I want to keep him safe and be near him even if only as a friend.”

“I’m sure he’s glad to have you.” Mum brushed his bangs from his forehead and leaned up to kiss it like she used to when he was a small child. “Tell you what, come help me bake something nice for him and I’ll send you off with it.”

Following her to the kitchen, the mansion felt like home. Not like it had as a high school student, but like living with Mum in London had felt. A big home was easy to get lost in; Mum filled it up and turned the empty spaces into welcome.

***

Kuroba’s bedside was covered in shadows, lit by light pollution from out the widow and a dim glow from a children’s night light left on in the hallway. Kuroba’s breathing was deep and even as he slept, not showing signs of his injuries in that at least. With all the shadows, Saguru could almost pretend Kuroba was uninjured. The pocket watch rested in the cradle of Saguru’s palm, its sound as soothing as its weight, as he watched seconds tick by. _3:45:12…3:47:14…3:52:49…_ Saguru had been there since 2:37 when he had woken from a dream where Saguru had not been the first to find Kuroba once he crashed to the ground. His eyes ached with exhaustion, but the after effects of adrenaline had him too awake to go back to bed. Besides, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t just pick up where the nightmare had left off.

Footsteps creaked in the hall. Kuroba didn’t even twitch. The pain meds must have made his sleep deeper than normal; Saguru was sure Kuroba was a light sleeper.

The steps paused outside the door. “Can’t sleep?” Kudo asked softly. His expression was lost in the shadows.

“Not so much at the moment.” Saguru clicked the watch closed and tucked it back into his pajama pocket.

Kudo tiptoed into the room, looking down at Kuroba. Kuroba slept on under the eyes of two detectives now. “He always seemed larger than life.”

“A chilling reminder that Kid bleeds like any other mortal,” Saguru agreed softly. “He always did try to cultivate that air of mystery. Even if he was awful at it at the start.”

“Oh?”

“The first time I witnessed him, he tried to escape the police across a frozen lake using a dummy to add to confusion. Only he couldn’t skate so he face planted into the ice. Nakamori-keibu, who bought into Kid’s mystique, concluded that Kid would never be so clumsy and ran after the dummy.”

Kudo laughed, a quiet barely there sound in the nighttime hush. “I would have liked to see that. He’s almost always composed when I’m around. Or tetchy.”

“He’s gotten better at faking. He’s still an idiot who thinks conjuring flowers is the height of flirtation and who doesn’t know how to react when the people he cares about are upset at him.”

Kid’s breath stayed steady. Outside a car passed, its headlights adding a brief double shadow to the room. It was surprisingly companionable to watch Kuroba sleeping with Kudo at his side. A vigil with an unexpected ally made through shared fondness of the bed’s occupant.

“You two really are close,” Kudo said, breaking the moment.

“It’s recent. I knew him, yes, but we weren’t close.” Saguru’s fault. Or perhaps both their faults; they had both had too much ego and pride to bridge gaps and wildly different morals and goals. “He probably hated me back then. I did my best to goad him at every turn.”

“…Didn’t hate you…” Kuroba’s voice said, scratchy with sleep. One eye opened a sliver, light glinting off it. “You were just annoying.”

“Kid…”

“Watching me sleep now, ‘kuba? That’s next level stalkerish.”

“You would know.”

“For the record I don’t watch people sleep.”

Saguru smiled, the night feeling brighter. He could barely make out a ghost of a smile on Kuroba’s face as he closed his eye again.

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” Kuroba mumbled. “From someone who feels like shit, that means more. Go to bed, Hakuba.” He flapped a hand weakly. “You too, Kudo.”

“We’re going,” Kudo said, shaking his head and looking like he was trying hard not to smile.

“Oh!” Saguru stopped halfway to standing as Kuroba half sat up, looking much more awake. “Hakuba, can you check on my doves tomorrow? I left them more food and water than normal, but their usual caretaker won’t be back until next week.”

“I’ll check on them,” Saguru promised. “Do you have a key?”

“…In the dish on my bookshelf.”

“Consider it done.” Saguru gave Kuroba one last look as he resettled into the pillows before following Kudo out.

“His bookshelf, hmm?” Kudo said.

“No comment,” Saguru said blandly. Hopefully after hearing Kuroba speak, the nightmares would leave him alone long enough for him to get a bit of sleep.


	23. Chapter 23

“It’s not that simple,” Kuroba said through clenched teeth. Saguru looked politely to one side as Haibara and Ran changed Kuroba’s bandages. Bandages that unfortunately included some in less than ideal or modest areas. Neither he nor Ran looked particularly uncomfortable with where her hands were at the moment, but Saguru supposed that they’d had time to get used to it considering how often bandages needed changed. He was less comfortable with Haibara, but Kuroba didn’t seem to like Haibara much. “You are—were?—fuck, ow—a detective. You know it’s not that simple.”

“I am well aware it isn’t as simple as identify and catch the criminal,” Saguru said patiently. Haibara peeled off the bandages along Kuroba’s side. The flesh was pink and almost pulpy looking in places, like an angry burn in others. The worst places were dotting with blood. Saguru looked up at the stark white ceiling. “I am also aware that you have been working at this alone for almost a decade. With something this large, you _will_ need assistance. You have two detectives willing to play go between in this. You’ve found the right stone. You will not be able to be Kid for an indefinite amount of time. What better time to work on actually taking this group out.”

“Hakuba.” Kuroba hissed, breathing heavy as Haibara or Ran touched something particularly painful. “Shit. You had to choose now of all times to—Ah!” Kuroba was white faced with eyes closed as Haibara cleaned out the deepest parts of the wound. It seemed the worst of the pain had been from trying to flinch away and jarring the rest of his injuries though.

“At this rate you’ll die,” Saguru said softly. “You’ll never be able to retire Kid or rest safely until they’re gone and you know you can’t do it on your own.”

“I don’t want to drag anyone else into this!” Kuroba said, voice hoarse from holding back the urge to scream.

Haibara snorted. “Too late. Between the task force and its tag alongs and people you interact with as a civilian—because if they killed your predecessor, they probably have an idea of who you are as a civilian—you’re all screwed anyway. They’re probably just waiting for the slip up or an opportunity they can cover up.”

“What Ai-san means,” Ran said, sounding exasperated, “is that we’re already involved, most of us because we chose to be.”

“You can’t be okay with this,” Kuroba muttered.

“Shinichi isn’t lying or going behind my back with this, and we deal with murderers every day, Kid-san. If I spent all my time worried about what could happen, I’d live a very unhappy life.”

“You’re retired,” Kuroba said to Saguru. It sounded like a plea. Saguru didn’t check what expression he had on his face. He didn’t really need to do so to know that Kuroba would look like he was on the edge of breaking.

“Kudo-san is not. And it seems there are still things that can bring the detective out of me after all.”

Kuroba said something under his breath. “Okay,” he said louder, a few minutes later.

Saguru dropped his gaze back to Kuroba and found pain bright eyes locked onto him.

“I have files at the same place I have my doves. They’re not enough to catch the group globally, not yet, but I’ve found as much as I could about the part of it in Japan.” He didn’t even react this time when Haibara moved to a new area to uncover and clean while Ran rebandaged where she had been. He stared Saguru down like he was trying to put every ounce of seriousness he had into making himself clear. “Only share those files to someone you’d trust with your life, do not lose them because I have limited copies and they have sensitive information.” He took a breath that shook as Haibara checked the bullet wound in his leg. “Don’t act on any of it until you’re sure you can close your traps.”

“Of course,” Saguru said. “How do I find the files?”

“It’s in Kid’s room. Digital is on a pen drive kept in a green drawer. Physical files are on the leftmost bottom side of the bookshelf with colored labels.” Kuroba paused, clearly unhappy about divulging this. “Touch the painting of my father to find the room.”

A hidden room? How appropriate for both a magician and a thief. “Thank you,” Saguru said. “I’ll look after your doves while I’m there.”

Kuroba nodded, just the barest dip of his chin as he scrunched his eyes against the pain of having wounds examined.

“If you’re done exchanging business,” Haibara said still bent over Kuroba’s leg, “go away. This is hassle enough without having him trying to talk.”

Saguru would have loved to point out that she was the one who kept him from seeing Kuroba earlier that morning in the brief hour he’d been awake then while she ran Kuroba through some tests to check that the concussion wasn’t causing problems, but it would be counter-productive to aggravate the woman keeping Kuroba alive and well.

Kuroba had relented a lot faster than he would have had he been given the space and mental concentration to argue, and Saguru should probably feel guilty about bringing up the topic while Kuroba was having bandages changed, but he wouldn’t feel guilty when it meant he’d be one step closer to helping Kuroba in the long run.

Focus on the end goal. On finding information, piecing together plans, and not on Kuroba’s open wounds or how pale his face went when Haibara touched his leg. There was Kuroba’s family home, and the doves to feed, and a secret room to find and files to unbury. There were phone calls to make and research to be done. And for once, Saguru did not care what the motives of these criminals were, not on a level of trying to understand what could drive them to murder. No, he wanted to know only so much as would be useful to weave the web of ties holding the organization together so he could unravel it bit by bit.

***

Kaitou Kid had a Bat Cave. Saguru laughed to himself, alone in Kuroba’s family home as he took in the hidden room. There was even a car down here. Kidmobile? That sounded ridiculous even in his head. How did the car get there? How did it get out? Saguru didn’t see anything that looked like it would open up. No hatch up above or hinge in the basement room walls. The room was a treasure trove into Kid’s mind from the prototypes being built on the desk to classic Kid tools retired to their places of honor on a shelf. Like Kid’s card gun. The original Kid uniform was fitted over a mannequin and Saguru could make out the rips and repairs in it and pair them with Kid’s early career—Kuroba’s early career; Saguru didn’t recognize signs from Toichi’s career on it, almost as if it had been pristine for Kuroba to find.

Saguru could spend a week in this room and only scratch the surface of what he could learn from it. He could pick apart Kuroba and everything Kuroba felt about his father in this room, and what sort of man Kuroba Toichi had been. There were files for every heist Kid had ever held and notes for dozens of future ones, meticulous research on gemstones that showed so much time and effort poured into this that Saguru wondered all over again how Kuroba functioned. Being allowed in here was a stunning amount of trust coming from Kuroba. It was humbling.

It made Saguru want to be worthy of that trust. So he didn’t touch any of Kuroba’s notes or prototypes. He looked at the old Kid uniform, but didn’t draw conclusions as to why it had its place of honor. He didn’t touch the stereo system or the records and he didn’t mess with any of the files beyond the ones Kuroba had instructed him to get.

There were a lot of files.

Fifteen years was a long time to gather information.

Saguru carried them back into the living room in batches. There were files on shell companies. Assets and tracking the incongruous outflow of funds. Files with pictures and names and dates meticulously collected and added to. Files on murderers. Files on the police. Files on people who had died in connection to the group. Files on scientists. Saguru divided the files by type as he came across them. He stared long and hard at several files containing every incident of violence at Kid heists and the repercussions of the violence. More than the research on gemstones and heist plans, this felt like the culmination of Kuroba’s life work. The heists were steeped with artistry. These files were filled with Kuroba’s stubbornness and spite and his incredible mind for detail.

“I am not going to be able to carry these back myself,” Saguru muttered, eying the pile. It had taken up a whole shelf, and stacked in two groups, it was almost to his knees. “Kuroba was never this meticulous with his class notes.” He would call Mum to send a car over and take the files to his apartment. From there, he could bring them to Kudo bit by bit and avoid revealing Kuroba’s family home in the process.

The files taken care of, Saguru closed the secret passage. It was terribly tempting to spend more time in it, but that felt like a violation of trust. The last thing he wanted was for Kuroba to regret letting him in.

Kuroba’s birds were kept in an attic room that functioned as a dovecote. The room’s shutters were open to let air flow freely, and the ground was covered with a layer of sawdust to catch the bird droppings. It smelled a bit, a consequence of going untouched for a few days with—Saguru did a quick count—fifteen birds in one room. Saguru wasn’t sure he was up to clearing out soiled sawdust in favor of a clean layer, but he could at least replace the food and water and give the birds some attention.

Doves were nothing like his hawk Watson had been. Watson was a predator and wild at heart even if she had been tamed. These doves were thoroughly domesticated and lacked any sort of self-preservation instinct when faced with a stranger. Two birds flew and landed on Saguru’s shoulders as he filled up dishes. Others left the various sized and shaped boxes around the room to watch him with interest. Despite the differences, it was soothing to feel the brush of feathers and the weight of a bird against him again. He’d had to give Watson back to his cousin after he was shot years ago. He hadn’t been able to care for her in the aftermath and it was something that he’d regretted despite visiting her for years after whenever he had reason to see his cousin.

Doves were soothing in their sounds too, soft coos and rustling that made for pleasant white noise in the background. The one on his shoulder ruffled its feathers happily when Saguru pet it. It was a pity Saguru couldn’t bring one to Kuroba. Animals were soothing in the wake of trauma. But animals also brought germs and the last thing Saguru wanted was to increase Kuroba’s risk of infection.

Instead of thinking about that, Saguru thought about the Kuroba that must have raised these birds. The hours spent with them just like Saguru was now, a hand out with feed and doves resting on any perch they could find. Undoubtedly they were well trained, but without knowing what that training entailed, he couldn’t test the extent of it. Sometime, if—when—Kuroba was healthy again, perhaps Saguru could visit with him and see Kuroba interact with them. Saguru always had been a bird person.

He spent a lot more time in the dovecote than he had in the secret room. When he left, he left behind happy birds with plenty of food and water. Saguru left happier too.

***

Research was a slow and tedious process. Ordinarily it didn’t bother Saguru much as he enjoyed exploring topics in minute details and seeing all sides of a case. As Saguru and Kudo worked through Kuroba’s files, Saguru was finding it harder to reach the level of concentration research ordinarily brought on. Unlike most cases Saguru worked on, this was personal, and every moment spent on it was heavy with the knowledge that it was another moment that the world was not yet safe for Kuroba to exist in.

“This is impossibly complex,” Saguru sighed, pushing files away from himself for the moment. Data for several dozen people crowded his brain, names and faces and lists of illicit activities burned into his retinas.

Kudo snorted. “Welcome to my life,” he muttered. “Kid’s disturbingly good at finding out the details though, isn’t he?”

“He is.” There was more information than Saguru would consider to ask for, and he had been someone to take exhaustive notes on behaviors and abilities. Kuroba’s note taking was a step above that with things like habits, familial background, and minute details of how they were involved with the organization with as much depth as Kuroba could gather.

“I guess this sort of stuff explains how he can impersonate people so well. How much time does it take to build this sort of profile?” Kudo mused.

“For impersonation?” Saguru had seen Kuroba successfully pull off something like that after only knowing the person a short time. But all of those impersonations had been quick and with limited interactions. Most of Kuroba’s longer impersonations were of people he knew well. “Brief impersonations require only enough time to observe mannerisms and speech patterns as well as a basic personality. Something like that, perhaps a few hours observation at most. Long term?” Well, there was a reason Kuroba had worn Saguru’s identity for long periods of time before. “He prefers more familiarity. But taking in those sort of details in second nature. He doesn’t consciously think about it.”

“He pulled off pretending to be me without ever meeting me,” Kudo muttered.

“Your reputation proceeded you,” Saguru said, amused. He doubted Kuroba would have been able to pull it off for long with someone who knew Kudo well, though. Not personally anyway. A professional Kudo would be fairly simple to pull off. A bit how Saguru would have been easy to pull off because he had some very memorable habits that Kuroba could have taken to convince a casual bystander.

“Or something.” Kudo shook his head. “There’s all the information we need and more, but there’s almost too much information at the moment to get a concept of what we’re looking at.”

“Can’t see the forest for the trees?”

“Exactly.”

“There is probably a summary in this somewhere,” Saguru said. “He does like compilations of information just as much as minutia. Although, given that he might have intended to hand this to the authorities at some point, perhaps this is Kid’s idea of petty revenge for all the years of chasing him. Information overload to make up for a lack of it.”

Kudo snickered into a file folder. “Sounds about up Kid’s alley.” He shut the folder, stretched. “While I could keep reading, I’m taking a break. Ran doesn’t like it when I spend too long locked in my own mind.”

“It does help to take breaks…” It was so tempting not to though. With nowhere to go and no obligations to fulfil, Saguru could have continued throwing himself into this until he was too tired to hold his eyes open. Theoretically, he might be too tired to have nightmares if he did that as well. Sleep was not his friend at the moment. But, he wasn’t in high school anymore, and if he did do something like that, he’d be paying for it for the next few days with caffeine cravings and headaches.

“It’s been interesting seeing what connects to what I’ve found over the years,” Kudo said leading Saguru out of the study.

Saguru stumbled slightly. This was the first Kudo was bringing up any investigating he had done on his own. They’d been looking over the files for several days even.

Kudo laughed at Saguru’s raised eyebrow. “I might have tried to keep my nose out of large scale crime organizations after everything with the Black Org, but you know what it’s like. You can’t _not_ notice things. I haven’t looked as deep as most of Kid’s files, but they are matching up to events over the years. I bet you every detective who’s dealt with Kid more than once has at least a mental file on this sort of thing.”

“Because Kid’s so well liked,” Saguru said, his sarcasm just a beat too slow.

“Kid doesn’t murder, returns most of what he steals, and actively tries not to hurt the people chasing him. Compared to working murders, it’s pretty relaxing.”

“Relaxing.” Relaxing was the last word Saguru would assign to a Kid heist.

“For me at least,” Kudo clarified. “Of course you can argue that Kid also causes property damage and that there has been a lot of collateral lately. But give me Kid over most of the people I deal with.” He grinned and he looked so much like Kuroba when he smiled like that that it was a bit baffling how two people could look so similar and not be related. “But like I said. Kid’s actually pretty well liked among detectives. You’d be surprised at how many would protect him. Makes you wonder what they could accomplish if they all pooled resources.”

“Are you suggesting bringing in more people?” Saguru asked.

Kudo shrugged. “We’re bringing more people in anyway.”

That was a good point. “Nakamori-keibu undoubtedly has information. I am uncertain if either generation would be willing to openly work to help Kid though.” Aoko would have files. She hated Kuroba, but she loved him too and didn’t want him dead. She’d find everything she could about people after Kid. And Nakamori Ginzo had spent so many years chasing Kid, he might even have information dating back as far as Toichi. At the same time he’d stubbornly refused to believe that the first Kid was not the same as Kuroba as Kid. It wouldn’t hurt to check though…

“I know Heiji would help. Sera too, though Kid pisses her off.” Kudo tilted his head to one side. “You don’t think Nakamori would help?”

“Not if I asked,” Saguru said with a grimace. “Probably. I am not her favorite person at the moment.”

“I noticed tension at the heist. I hadn’t realized you even knew each other.” Kudo led them into the kitchen, grabbing glasses for water. A plate of leftovers from last night’s dinner joined it. At the sight of the food, Saguru realized he had not eaten in well over eight hours, not since a rice ball with a cup of tea at five in the morning when another nightmare woke him and he’d decided to start his day.

Saguru took the plate and set it at the table. “We attended the same high school actually. I was…not Nakamori Aoko’s favorite person.”

“She thought you were usurping her father at the heists?” Kudo guessed. He passed Saguru plates to eat from and chopsticks. They sat and descended on the food, apparently both feeling the distance from that morning’s breakfast.

“In part, though even then she was very against Kid and would have been glad to see progress made in catching him. I made an accusation against one of her close friends at one point, and that ultimately earned me her disapproval. Aoko-san is very loyal. It takes a good deal to shake that.”

“…You accused someone in your class of being Kid, didn’t you,” Kudo said. He gave Saguru a calculating look.

“I neither confirm nor deny.”

“In other words, yes.” Kudo went back to his food. “You know, if I wanted I could have figured out who he was ten times over by now.”

“I am aware.”

“You’re pretty loyal too,” Kudo said.

Saguru chose not to answer that. Kudo Shinichi might be a lot easier to get along with than Saguru expected (especially someone who counted Hattori Heiji among his close friends) but there was only so far that budding friendship was going to take him at the moment.

***

It took several long moments before Saguru could work up the nerve to knock on Aoko’s door. He knew he wasn’t welcome here. Not after hiding Kuroba and not calling and not sending Takumi straight home. Saguru knew this, but he was here anyway, because at the end of the day Aoko was someone who also wanted to see Kid’s shadows arrested.

There was a long silence after he knocked. A dog barked across the street. Perhaps he should have called ahead. Calling ahead would have meant Aoko would be geared up to fight when he got there though. Saguru had hoped that catching her off guard would let him get to the point without being blown up at. It didn’t do much good if no one was home.

He raised a hand to knock again, but the door was yanked violently inward. Aoko stood in the doorway, shoulders squared and a frown etching deep lines across her forehead. “Hakuba,” she said.

“Aoko-san.” Saguru squared his shoulders right back. “We need to talk.”

“We can start with how your official report barely tells anything,” Aoko said. “And your private one wasn’t much better.” She was guarded, but not outright aggressive; that was about as much as Saguru could hope for really.

“Please,” Saguru said.

Aoko didn’t soften or give an inch, but she did step aside. “Don’t make me regret letting you in,” she said.

Saguru dipped his head and left his shoes neatly on the _genkan_. There was another pair of shoes there already, male shoes, well-worn and only a size smaller than Saguru’s. Takumi’s shoes were absent entirely. “Takumi-kun is out?” Saguru asked to be sure.

“Yes.” Aoko glanced over her shoulder, coldly assessing. “I wouldn’t have let you in to talk right now if he was here.”

Ah. So he now counted as a bad influence? Or would she have worried about him overhearing something he shouldn’t? Saguru pushed the thoughts aside, following Aoko to the kitchen. Nakamori Ginzo sat at the table. He had a beer in front of him and looked far far older than Saguru remembered last seeing him. Older than Saguru’s parents, and Saguru’s father was almost a decade older than Nakamori was. There were deep lines on his face and his hair was almost all gray now, shot through with white on the edges. Even his mustache was gray. Nakamori looked at Saguru like he wasn’t sure whether to greet him or glare at him. Their working relationship had always been a complicated one.

“Nakamori-san,” Saguru said, breaking the silence with a nod of respect.

Nakamori grunted at him and took a swallow of his beer. “Hakuba-kun.” There was a cane propped near him, even more worn than the one Saguru had lost. Saguru had an absurd vision of Nakamori waving it at Kid’s fleeing back like an old man chasing neighborhood kids off his lawn. “Not sure if I should welcome you back or tell you to go the hell back where you came from,” Nakamori grumbled.

“I’m afraid I have no intention of going back to London anytime soon,” Saguru said. He slid into a chair next to Aoko’s. She still had a frown on her face, but she clunked down a can of beer next to her own for Hakuba. He eyed it. It was a bad time to refuse hospitality, in whatever form it was given but… “I don’t drink alcohol.”

Aoko snorted. “Of course you don’t. Well it’s beer or water; I’m not feeling like making tea.”

“I am fine without,” Saguru said. He took a breath. “We need to talk about Kid.”

Now it was Nakamori’s turn to snort. “You have hell of timing as usual. We were talking about last week’s heist. For all the good talking it to death will do,” he added bitterly.

“…how are the officers injured from the bombs?” Saguru asked.

“The worst were just released from intensive care,” Aoko said. She sipped at her beer unlike Nakamori’s periodic gulps, glaring off at an unfocused point in the distance. “Thanks for asking. How’s Kid?”

“…” Saguru glanced at Nakamori, but his bitterness wasn’t directed at Saguru. If anything, he looked interested in hearing rather than wanting to tear into Saguru for being in contact with a criminal. “Recovering, but slowly. No infections so far, no apparent long term damage from the concussion, and he can keep a coherent conversation.”

“And?” Aoko asked, because there was always an and.

“And he’s already stir crazy when he isn’t caught up in being in pain. He is still in a sling and a leg brace, a leg which is still questionable if it won’t need surgery at a later date, covered in road burns, and can’t breathe too deeply without jarring his ribs.” Saguru huffed out a breath, feeling defensive and irritated even though he had known coming here he’d be questioned. “What do you want me to say? I listed his injuries in the report I gave you. You can gather how long it’s going to take to heal from that list alone, without the possibilities of setbacks.”

“No stupid stunts? No attempts to escape from where you’re keeping him? No signs of people sniffing around looking for him?” Aoko asked.

“You make it sound like I kidnapped him,” Saguru retorted. “No, even if he were capable of moving without making his injuries worse, he knows he’s better off where he is for the moment. And if anyone has been looking for him, I haven’t noticed.” He had had to dodge a reporter once since the heist, but that was the extent of the bother so far as he had seen. No men in dark clothing. No suspicious shadows. No feelings of being watched.

“You would think you’d be under watch,” Aoko said. “Since I know I am.” She took another sip like this was nothing to be alarmed about. “I’ve been under watch for years,” she said in response to whatever mix of emotion was showing on his face. She snorted again. “Don’t know what the hell they get from it. They have someone on the inside; they can see ninety percent of my waking life that way with how much I work.”

“Do you know who it is?” Saguru asked.

“If I knew,” Aoko said, voice dark as a pit trap, “I’d have their badge and follow the damn trail til the whole adder’s nest of them was gone. They had to be the one to set the bombs. We did a sweep not two hours before the heist for just that sort of thing. Multiple sweeps with different divisions just to prevent this sort of shit from happening. I don’t even know all the people that were there that day. I have no way of knowing who the hell did it.”

“Or if someone was disguised,” Saguru said. “Not Kid,” he added at the deeper scowl between both Nakamori’s brows.

“Of course not Kid,” Nakamori said, surprisingly vehement. “I hate Kid, but he’s not a murderer. Even that Nightmare case—! When everything was looked over, it was more an accident than a murder. Hell, Kid trying to save him wouldn’t be out of the question with his patterns.” There had been a glove, Saguru remembered. A glove and a mask shot by a card. A glove that Saguru had taken to try to hide the truth about Connery. A truth that came out later anyway when going through Connery’s possessions. He hadn’t thought about that in a long time. “Kid’s not a murderer,” Nakamori insisted. “He won’t even use a real gun.”

They were all silent a moment, caught in memories of things Kid had and had not done, and the injuries and deaths that had fallen upon heists over the years. “You both know that Kid has been one wrong move away from getting shot for years,” Saguru said. “I expect you’ve gathered information about it?”

“Of course.” Aoko took a swig of beer at that, bitterness compounding. “Funnily enough, that information gets redacted. Or goes missing. Or things never get investigated. Conveniently, all the missing stuff gets pinned on Kid, like how he swapped out the DNA samples and files you had on him.”

“That’s officially,” Saguru said. “Unofficially, I imagine you’ve taken quite a bit of data that you probably shouldn’t have.” Both Aoko and Nakamori twitched. “It is frustrating when your proof keeps vanishing.” And wasn’t that a bitterness he knew intimately? But this was about Kid and Kuroba, not Saguru’s past. “I imagine you have files on every incident bullets have been shot at a Kid heist, every injury, every hint of something suspicious, hmm?”

“What,” Aoko growled, “are you driving at, Hakuba?”

“You’re not the only one,” Saguru said softly, treading carefully. “And Kid has been gathering files for years. Those files have ideas on who your moles might be.”

“We don’t know how high this goes up,” Aoko said. “Hakuba, it’s not just our jobs in danger, it’s lives. One wrong move and you, your coworkers, your family, all of them can end up dead.”

“I know.” He stared her down, willing her to understand. “Do you think I don’t know? Aoko-san, I’ve already lost someone I loved. I am well aware of the dangers that getting involved entail. I’ve decided it’s worth it anyway.” He leaned forward. “Between what you and other detectives have collected, and what Kid himself has found, it might just be enough to catch them for good.”

“We caught some of their men over the years, Hakuba-kun,” Nakamori said. He stared down at his drink. “Most of them didn’t live long enough to get to the station let alone stand trial.”

“If you had faces of snipers, if you had names of moles and shell companies and proof of what was going on behind them?” Saguru pressed.

“And what is going on?” Aoko asked. “What is the mess Kid’s caught in? Are they smugglers? Drug dealers? Human traffickers? What? We know they have assassins. They’re not part of the Yakuza. That’s about all we’ve managed to rule out.”

“Think more internationally than that,” Saguru said. “Instead of purely a shell business model, picture a cult. You have your inner circle of higher ups, your assassins, and then you have the people that go out and convert people to their cause. They’re in a lot of places, but they’re deep into pharmaceuticals and cosmetics and the intersection of the two.”

“Cosmetics?” Aoko curled her lip. “You’re telling me a criminal organization is neck deep in selling anti-aging creams and blemish concealer.”

“Exactly.” Saguru smiled. “Reversing the effects of aging. Stopping the hands of time.”

Both father and daughter were giving him looks like he’d finally been around Kuroba too much and his crazy had worn off.

“I am not telling you I believe that anything like that is possible,” Saguru said, waving a hand as if to clear away the thought. “What I am saying is that our group believes in it. Enough to search for a gemstone that is said to grant immortality. Enough to try and create something similar on their own. And enough to kill to keep others from getting it.”

“So that would explain the focus to gemstones,” Aoko said. “Fine. And Kid is, what, trying to get his hands on it first? To what end?”

“So they can’t use it, mostly. To destroy it if possible.”

“But it doesn’t exist. That would be a never ending task and you can’t tell me he plans to spend the rest of his life being Kid. You can’t.”

Aoko’s voice broke. Oh. Saguru looked at Nakamori. They _both_ knew, didn’t they? That Kid was Kuroba.

“Did he ever explain it to you?” Saguru asked softly. “Why he is Kid?”

“He tried.” Aoko gave Saguru a smile that was more bared teeth than smile. Her eyes were a bit damp at the edges. “I never let him get it all out. It didn’t matter why. It doesn’t matter why. No matter why, it’s still the same result.”

Saguru looked at Nakamori. Nakamori shrugged. “You were right,” he said. “I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want it to have been Toichi. I still don’t like that it’s Kaito.”

“It started with Toichi,” Saguru said. “Or Kid did at least. From what I’ve read or been told, he refused to help steal for the group and openly acted against them, so they killed him. I don’t know what motivated him to actively prevent them from getting their targets, but for Kuroba it has always been about finishing what Toichi started. And exposing the group if at all possible. As it stands he doesn’t believe it is possible.”

“And you do.” Aoko finished her drink and opened the one she’d brought out for Saguru. “I am too sober for this,” she muttered. She took a long swallow and slammed the can back down. “Okay. Why do you think it is possible?”

“Because so far you—Kid, Kudo, any other detective with any interest in this—have been working alone. And I am proposing a group effort. No one brings down a crime organization alone. If we pool resources and connection, trade information and bring in only those we would trust with our lives, we can pull this off.”

“Because that goes so well,” Aoko said. “The thing about crime groups these days is that you can’t pin them down. Take the Yakuza. They’ve got legal fronts. They cut deals with police to keep the peace, and if someone does get caught, either the evidence vanishes, a fall guy appears to take the blame, or their lawyers drag on a legal battle until they are either free or it’s too costly to keep it going. You can’t just take out the edges. You have to hit the core. And Hakuba, I’ve worked in the police force for almost thirteen years now. Tou-san worked it over thirty years. There’s just things you can’t do. It’s all caught up in bureaucracy.”

“I have worked with the police most of my life,” Saguru pointed out drily. In addition to having a police father.

Aoko rolled her eyes. “Working _with_ the police is different than _being on_ the police force. And don’t point out your father, for fuck’s sake, he was high up enough he could bend rules and get away with them. The rest of us can’t get away with that shit, and we shouldn’t anyway.”

Saguru sniffed, feeling a bit stung by that. “I stand by that we can do this,” he said, slipping into a more distant, formal tone without meaning to.

Aoko and Nakamori exchanged a glance. “And who else have you talked to?” Nakamori said, some understanding being reached between them.

“Aside from Kid? Kudo Shinichi.”

“Kudo?” Aoko grimaced. “He’s a great detective, but…”

“He’s also known to be aggressive in chasing Kid,” Nakamori grunted. “Not as much of an arrogant ass as he was as a teen, but, no offense, I’m sure you’ve grown up since then too.”

“I wasn’t thrilled to go to Kudo for help either, but out of anyone, he has had firsthand experience taking down a crime organization.” Saguru leaned back in his chair. “And I will admit, he is easier to work with than I had anticipated. He is surprisingly willing to help considering that in a roundabout way he is helping Kid. He still had connections to the CIA and Interpol from taking down the other crime organization.” Saguru met both their gazes. “We all would like Kid to take off his mantle. Taking out this organization is the only way to guarantee both that this will happen, and that Kid will survive to do so.”

“I want him arrested,” Aoko said, though she didn’t sound like she meant it. She didn’t argue his point though.

“I think we would all prefer he live more.” Saguru said.

“Yeah.” Aoko sighed. Her shoulders slumped and her forehead rested on the hand holding her beer can for a moment. “I have a handful of officers I’d trust with not just my life, but Takumi’s,” she said finally, looking up at Saguru. “And I have ten years of semi-legal documents and personal notes. I can’t promise any official help; I can’t be sure who of my higher ups is safe to trust or not at this point. I can promise my own help, in what little free time I have, and whatever I or the rest of the task force lifers have dug up though.”

“That’s more than I was asking for,” Saguru said. He looked at Nakamori.

Nakamori scowled. “I just don’t want to attend another funeral,” he said gruffly. Saguru waited. Nakamori likely still thought of Kuroba as something of a son. Betrayal or not, there was too much history and he had watched Kuroba grow up. “I don’t know what help it will be, but I have my own personal files since Toichi’s time. Maybe looking back almost thirty years will help.”

“Thank you.” He would take what they would give, all of it, and press only so far as was safe for now. They would do the rest. Two people so tangled up in Kid and all that surrounded him, they couldn’t help but get caught up in this too. Both Aoko and her father were good at tunnel vision and chasing the end goal. If Saguru could keep that end goal shifted to the organization, they’d be the most stubborn among them in chasing any lead they could find.

“I’ll talk to Kudo tomorrow,” Aoko said. She sounded like the energy had drained from her and like she’d rather sink into the table and never move again than contemplate the mechanics of taking out a criminal organization. Saguru sympathized. None of them had been sleeping well lately. “Oh yeah, your report.” Aoko lifted her head to frown at him. “How did you get Kid out of there? And clean up the crash site? Or get him medical attention because I know you didn’t take him to a hospital.”

“I called some help,” Saguru said. “They took care of cleanup and had medical connections.”

“…Now I’m wondering if you have Yakuza connections,” Aoko muttered.

“It wasn’t Chikage,” Nakamori said. “She only just got back to Japan.” And wasn’t that still a pressing question. Why had she been abroad? And why had it taken a week to return even after Saguru’s phone call about Kuroba’s injuries?

Kuroba Chikage was as much of a mystery as her son could be at times. More so even, because Saguru had only met her once. “I don’t have Yakuza connections,” Saguru said out loud. “You would know if I did.”

“I’d say you were too straight laced, but clearly you’re not as straight and narrow as I thought you were in high school.” And wasn’t that laced with double meanings. Aoko sighed. “Keep your secrets I guess. What’s one more upon the heap of them in my life?” Nakamori grunted in agreement.

They’d agreed though, and agreed to work with Kudo too. “I should go.”

“Back to Kid or back to home?” Aoko asked.

“Home, then Kid,” Saguru said. He could see Aoko filing that away, that Kid was not at Saguru’s place, and that Saguru both knew Kid’s current location and was visiting it frequently. “I will let you know if anything changes with his condition.”

Aoko nodded. She rested her cheek on one hand, blue eyes boring into Saguru like if she looked hard enough she could pick him apart. “He doesn’t deserve you looking out for him like this,” she said abruptly.

“It’s not about what he does or does not deserve,” Saguru said. The words came out slow, heavy as he turned them over in his head. Things like deserving or not… No one truly deserved anything. Not anything more than being treated as another human being with all that that entailed. “Right now it’s about need.” And Kuroba did need someone watching his back. He needed someone to care. He needed a listening ear because he didn’t really have one outside of Saguru. “And want,” he added. “Kid needs someone to lean on and I want to be someone he trusts to do so.”

From the complicated mix of frustration, bemusement, and wry resignation, Aoko got what he wasn’t putting into words there and all that was implied beneath it. Nakamori was a step behind; he hadn’t seen who Saguru was now or his interactions with Kuroba to put the whole picture together.

“You’re an idiot,” Aoko said.

“Probably,” Saguru agreed. “I would regret any other decision though.”

Aoko flapped a hand at him. “Fine. Go be stupid with Bakaito. We’ll help with your insane scheme. Let us drink in peace you teetotaler.”

Saguru laughed. That was probably going to be as close to Aoko accepting his emotions for Kuroba as he got. It lessened the knot of guilt surrounding those emotions some. After all, he knew she still loved Kuroba even if she hated him too. Saguru reached for his cane.

“Goodnight, Aoko-san, Nakamori-san. Thank you again for your help.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments guys, they make me smile ^__^ Thanks for sticking with me this far <3

There was a reporter on his front doorstep. Saguru had almost tripped over her as his half asleep brain moved on autopilot, but she’d looked up and he’d connected the dots and slammed the door in her face. He’d become lax about his attentiveness in the last week with all the reporters focusing on the heist bombing and its after effects rather than one mostly retired detective who had happened to be at the heist. Clearly he had been premature in thinking that no one would care about him past the heist.

The bag of things to take back to Kudo’s hung limply in one hand as he checked the peephole. She was still there, staring at the door handle like she was contemplating picking the lock. With the intensity of that look, Saguru was surprised she hadn’t attempted to do so already or even tried knocking to pester him out. Kneejerk reaction to hide aside, he didn’t plan to spend the whole day waiting her out.

Saguru opened the door.

The woman looked familiar… Short, with straight shoulder-length hair and heels to try and make up for her natural height. Ah, the one who had ambushed him outside of the school and started this whole mess. “I don’t appreciate loiterers,” he said. “I also don’t appreciate stalkers, which you appear to be considering you’ve staked out both my work and my home now.” He let out a tiny bit of his temper. “I _really_ do not appreciate people who shove private information into the public sphere and out people to the whole country. Tell me, was the advancement of your career truly worth losing a friendship?”

It was a stab in the dark to conclude that Hiroto cut her out of his life after the incident, but it was a stab that hit home. Her lips pulled into a tight frown. “I’m here to ask about the heist fallout, not about Hiroto.”

“Is he still comfortable with you calling him by his first name then? I find myself surprised.”

“None of this has anything to do with him,” she snapped. “This is about your career and how it interacts with Kid, not your romantic life. Hiroto isn’t even affected!”

“Isn’t he?” Saguru said, leaning against his doorway. He tapped his cane against his palm. “For one, you ruined any possible chance of a romantic relationship with me, which, while not serious in the long run, would be personally hurtful. For another…” He tapped the cane more meaningfully, a vague threat he would never act on but which kept the intimidation factor on his side. “You showed that you have no problem with potentially ruining someone’s public and work life by outing them to the world. True, I never tried to hide it much, but I never broadcasted it either. You are aware of the social stigma homosexuality still holds in society or you wouldn’t be so careful to keep Hiroto’s preferences to yourself. But by outing me without remorse, you show a lack of care that is understandably alarming.” He leaned forward. “Third, you are showing no remorse for any of the fallout. Not Hiroto’s distress, not my defamation, and not for spreading my personal tragedy like some cheap novel sob story. If you did you would not be here.”

“Fine,” she said. She stood straighter, face closed off so professionally neutral it could have given Kuroba competition. “How is this; you agree to an interview and I write a glowing article on your effort for the community to make up for your claims of defamation.”

The sad thing, Saguru thought, was that she actually believed he would consider this a good deal. That an about face in the media would smooth things over and life could go on like nothing had happened. But life didn’t work that way and the consequences of her actions would still be there even if she did build him up again. “I would rather never see you again in my life,” Saguru said.

There was not a flicker of emotion on her face. “I wondered once,” she said abruptly, “what it would be like to meet you. Famous teen detective from halfway around the world and you show up practically in my back yard to chase an equally famous thief. I used to follow your cases in the paper. I would go to Kid heists and write up blog posts about anything I could get on your methods. It’s how I ended up in journalism. It’s how I’ve spent the last six years writing up petty crime articles.”

“I don’t see how confessing your past as a fan could possibly soften my opinion on your actions,” Saguru said acerbically.

“I still write that damn Kid-detective blog,” she continued like Saguru hadn’t spoken at all. “I’ve been trying to get my foot in the door to write heist articles for years. You have to understand that I had to take the foothold that presented itself.”

“And why the hell should that make a difference?”

“You’re the one who goes around asking motives,” she shot back, angry now. Her armor was cracked, all professionalism stripped away by raw emotion. “Or did you stop trying to understand people when you retired? I admired that once, still do, but I’ve spent the last decade struggling to make goddamn ends meet with the dregs of news stories and purse-napping callouts. I don’t care how much I respected you, I wasn’t going to sit back and lose a chance for better just because you decided you don’t want to be a public figure anymore. You used to try to be the best detective, you should understand a drive for betterment, or did you lose that too when you tossed away your career? Hiroto sure as hell understood it before he got his cushy business job!”

Saguru’s patience hit a wall. “Enough.” Her mouth snapped shut, teeth clicking audibly.  “I don’t care what you had attached to some concept of me, or why you made your choices. The fact is that you made them, and maybe it wasn’t legally a crime but it sure as hell wasn’t good morals.” He stared down at the woman who had upended his growing peace and felt cold inside, hard and angry in an unforgiving, entirely lucid way. “You got your way. I went to the damn heist and I did my part and I went home like all the other officers and detectives present. No more, no less. And now, you’re going to bend to my will. In a day you’ll be contacted by my lawyer. I am sure she will enjoy hearing all about your reasons why you invaded my privacy, extorted personal information, and tried to create a scandal.” Saguru smiled, a smile he was once told made him look like he was about to bite someone’s head off. “I’ll be in touch. It won’t be hard to do; your name’s on every article you write. And if it’s not your legal name, well, I am sure Hiroto wouldn’t mind passing along that information.”

He took immense satisfaction at how she paled slightly, and her jaw clenched. Saguru kept smiling and made aggressive eye contact as he took the chance to pick his bag up. He only broke it to lock the door.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have places to be.”

Saguru left her there, frozen with some emotion known only to her. From here on, Saguru was handing this sort of thing to his parents’ lawyers. Not just this reporter, but anyone who tried something similar. He hoped that they would give this one hell. It was petty of him, perhaps, but he wasn’t the only one she’d hurt with this and maybe other stories. Maybe this way he’d be the last.

***

There were voices coming from Kuroba’s room. This wouldn’t be that odd; there were three other adults in the home and Kuroba had his cell phone, but none of the voices Saguru heard sounded like Kuroba. Saguru crept toward the room, peeking around the corner before staring for a moment. Kuroba Kaito, Kaitou Kid, on Interpol’s list of criminals, terror of the Japan’s theft division for the last two decades, was reading a book. A children’s book to be exact, with Kudo’s daughters sitting on either side of him. Midori flipped a page for Kuroba before returning to staring at the illustrations. Kuroba’s voice dipped down for one character before going light and trilling for another. He caught sight of Saguru watching and winked, not stopping his narration.

It was one thing seeing Kuroba interact with Takumi, it was another to see him interacting with much younger children. It wasn’t hard to imagine a much younger Takumi in a similar position, equally enraptured as Kuroba brought stories to life.

Saguru stepped into the room as Kuroba finished the short story. Hanae looked up at him as Midori turned to a new story.

“Another!”  Midori demanded.

“Are you supposed to be reading?” Saguru asked.

Kuroba smiled at him, entirely unrepentant. “It’s a five minute story. I don’t think that’s really straining my brain.”

Saguru snorted. Compared to Kuroba’s usual? No, a children’s story wasn’t much. Still… “Do your parents know you’re here?” he asked the girls.

Hanae fidgeted, tugging at Kuroba’s bedsheets. “Tou-san and Kaa-san said we could visit if we’re being good.”

“He tells stories better than Ojii-chan does,” Midori said reverently. “He’s the best ever.”

“Midori,” Hanae hissed. She tugged at her sister’s sleeve.

“He is!” Midori was extra careful as she patted an unbruised bit of Kuroba’s cheek. “You should read us a bedtime story every night.”

“I’m not sure I can manage _every_ night,” Kuroba said. He was laughing inside, Saguru could see it in the crinkle of his eyes.

“Just don’t say that to Ojii-chan,” Hanae said. “You’ll make him sad.” She glanced at Saguru and tugged her sister’s sleeve again. “C’mon, Midori. We’re supposed to get ready for bed.”

“One more story?” Midori asked.

“We can come back tomorrow.”

“I’ll read you the one about the lucky cat tomorrow,” Kuroba promised.

Midori pouted a few seconds longer, but nodded. She slid off the bed, book hugged to her chest. “G’night, Kid-jisan,” she said.

Hanae followed a beat after her, dipping her head at Saguru before hurrying after her sister. “Night,” she said in a rush. She was being wary of Saguru again, and Saguru wasn’t sure what he’d done to make her nervous again. Keep too many odd hours? Spend too much time locked in the study poring over files with Kudo? He shook his head.

“It seems like you’ve made some friends.”

Kuroba laughed. He looked the most relaxed Saguru had seen him since he was shot. “Children like me,” he said.

“Well, you are the biggest child of them all,” Saguru quipped.

“Did you just pun at me?” Kuroba asked, mock scandalized.

Saguru grinned. It felt nice to smile. It had been a while. “They haven’t been bothering you, though?”

“No. It’s nice actually. It’s kind of boring in here and you know how bad I am at staying still.” Kuroba didn’t have the dexterity to fiddle with cards at the moment, or to do any of his usual things that kept his hands and mind active. Now that Kuroba was making headway toward being on the mend, he must be going stir crazy. “I like children. And Takumi outgrew bedtime stories.”

“You do seem to be good at them.” Saguru lowered himself into the nearby chair. Kuroba looked a world better than he had a week and a half ago. There was color to his face again that wasn’t made of bruising, band the lighter of his scrapes had lost their scabs in favor of new pink skin. His arms still had limited mobility, but he could move them at least if he was careful. And yesterday he had been allowed to take a shower instead of sponging off. Healing was a slow process and Saguru didn’t envy Kuroba a second of it.

“I had a lot of practice once upon a time.” Kuroba’s smile dimmed. “You were out yesterday.”

“I had some things I needed from my apartment. I spent the night there since I hadn’t been back in a while.” He was starting to feel bad about imposing on the Kudos, though they didn’t seem to mind. “I ran into another reporter today though.”

“Oh?”

“Hopefully she won’t be bothering me for a while.” Saguru smiled thinly. “I am getting rather short tempered with media personnel in general.”

“No shit.” Kaito nodded his direction. “Now what’s on your mind?”

“I wanted to let you know what’s going on.” He took a second to put his thoughts in order. “Aoko and Nakamori-san are both pulling together their cases. Kudo-san has contact with people he knows in the FBI and CIA to look into some of the international aspects. Outside of that, he has a surprisingly large net of police allies across Japan who, as he contacts them, are putting together their own inconsistencies and adding up into a larger picture. We’re cross referencing what they find with your files and getting a much larger picture than even we thought there would be. Otou-san is reaching out to some of his contacts that he’s kept up since retirement. We’re keeping this as quiet as we can, but it is going to be in the open soon...” Both of them looked grim for a moment. The ramifications of that level of interdepartmental inquests across Japan wasn’t lost on them. “This is going to be big. There isn’t anything we can do about that with how far reaching this group seems to be. I plan on calling people I know from London tonight. I don’t know if they’ll work with me, but I have to use any resource I can...”

“Did you burn bridges that badly?” Kuroba asked.

Saguru snorted. Burning bridges was putting it mildly. “I was not mentally stable when I lost Mel. I can see that now, but then I couldn’t accept being cut out of his case and broke several rules before lashing out at more or less everyone I knew. I’m surprised anyone called to warn me that reporters had called around asking about me. I ruined years of friendship in a very short period of time and we both know I’m not the best at making friends in the first place...” Saguru tapped fingers along the length of his cane. “They might help. They might not. But there was a connection found to a company in London and at the very least I can point them in that direction.” He sighed. “Kuroba, we might not find all of them. We’ll try, but you know the extent of them better than I do and there’s only so many countries I have connections in. I have a few contacts in France I can call... But that’s two countries in a large world. The best we can do is give the biggest pieces to large world powers like MI6 and America’s FBI or CIA. They have the manpower and funds to chase them for years and maybe make a lasting impact. We can perhaps burn them out of Japan though. That might be enough to keep you safe.”

“There’s no guarantee with that.” Kaito sighed too. “It’s more than I thought could happen though. Do that... Do that and it might be safe to be me again.”

“Do they know who you are?”

“That’s the million yen question isn’t it?”

Saguru tapped a bit more until the sound started to grate on his eardrums, less tapping and more like a timer counting down. He stilled his hand. Kuroba was still so abnormally quiet and unmoving in the bed. If they failed...if they didn’t take out enough people, if the organization did know who Kuroba was, then the stillness might not be temporary. Kuroba would die and perhaps his family and anyone else near him. Failure was not an option.

“They knew who my father was,” Kuroba said after a long silence. “One of their assassins thought I was him for years. But Snake is dead now, and the others don’t assume. I don’t know if Aoko’s under watch because she’s the head investigator or if it’s because she was my wife. I don’t know if my work is watched because of me or because it’s somewhere Kid hits often. Kaa-chan hasn’t said that she’s watched, but she’s barely ever home. Watchers have come and gone over the years, but they’ve been back for the last half year at least and I don’t know how much they’ve figured out in that time...”

“We’d best find out then, hmm?”

“Yeah.” Kuroba’s face twisted, openly frustrated. It made Saguru feel a bit too warm for the situation at hand to see the open display of emotion rather than Kuroba’s masks. “I wish I wasn’t useless.”

“Who is useless?” Saguru said. “You’ve provided the majority of our information to date and are the catalyst of an international police effort. Injuries aside, your brain remains sharp as ever. You’re far from useless.”

“Fine, not useless. Helpless.” He twitched an arm. “I hate holding still like this. I hate not being able to keep up with my contacts or go to work or even go to the bathroom on my own.” Kuroba gripped his hand into a fist and released it, a slight twinge of pain in his face as it pulled injured muscles. “Every time I get hurt it puts me back a step, and this time is all the more frustrating because I did find what I was looking for and it doesn’t change anything.”

“You don’t have to search anymore,” Saguru pointed out.

“Yes, but ideally I still would to throw them off for a bit longer until I got rid of the stone.”

“We can work something out.”

“I can only hope...” Kuroba sighed. The air of melancholy around him settled into something a bit less negative as he seemed to forcibly set that train of thought aside. “I take it you’re here for the night?”

“Yes.” Tonight, and perhaps the next before tasks might send him elsewhere and make it more beneficial to stay at his own home. He also didn’t want to overstay his welcome, however gracious of hosts the Kudos had been so far. “Kudo and I have more files to go through. As always, your attention to detail is astounding.”

“Never know what might be important,” Kuroba said.

Saguru nodded. For Kid and for detectives, details meant everything. Kuroba was looking drained again though. The topic, healing, or the ongoing stress of everything, he wasn’t sure. “I should let you rest.”

Kuroba groaned. “I’m sick of resting.”

“A pity that there will be a lot more of it in your future.”

Kuroba pouted. It looked ridiculous coming from a grown man and made Saguru’s hand itch with the desire to pinch his cheek. “You could at least be sympathetic.”

“Oh, believe me I am. Recovery is always the worst bit of injuries.” He’d been terrible at sitting still for his own injured knee once upon a time. “You’ll miss it once you start trying to do physical therapy.”

“At least then I’ll feel like I’m making progress.”

Saguru hummed. The progress always felt unbearably slow.

“Stay a while?” Kuroba asked. “At least until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.” It would be a long night for Saguru, but he didn’t mind sitting here now.

“Talk to me?” Kuroba asked.

So Saguru talked, telling him things he had learned about his coworkers, student interactions in the hallways he hadn’t mentioned before, some of his better and worse students in the past in London over the years, anything unrelated to their reason for being in this room now. Kuroba smiled and laughed at all the right parts, a bit softer each time until he was asleep in his bed and Saguru’s voice trailed off into silence.

“This will work out,” Saguru said, a hope and a promise.

***

Saguru had yet to have his first sip of caffeine for the day—coffee because tea wasn’t strong enough to cut it at the moment—when Haibara showed up in the kitchen.

“The news is playing something you should see,” she said. Her expression was as neutral as ever, but there was a tangible air of tension around her that broke through the sleep deprived haze in Saguru’s mind. He gripped his coffee mug and followed Kudo and Ran to the living room where the television was playing the local news network.

The news displayed a body clearly dressed in full Kid regalia. “It is unclear at this point if the man is Kaitou Kid,” the reporter was saying, “but as the police investigation gets underway, viewers will remember the clip from a few weeks ago—“ The screen jumped to a shaky cell phone camera footage of Kid’s glider going down, a familiar queasiness rising in Saguru’s stomach as he watched it. “It is not outside the realm of possibility that Kid is, in fact, the body found. Now there are some theories as to...”

The volume cut off as Kudo turned it down, a pensive expression on his face. He and Saguru looked at the profile photo of the man found, still no name, his eyes closed in the image at least, taken from different angles to better show his facial features. Professional police photos. Leaked, most likely as they wouldn’t have shared this so openly with so few details found unless they were forced to or someone broke protocol. Most of the world might not know that the body wasn’t Kid, but to those of them who did know...

“The sniper, probably,” Kudo said, solemn, nodding at the photo. “Failed too many times.”

“A warning then?” Saguru murmured. To Kid? On screen the image was replaced by the newscaster and a self-proclaimed Kid ‘expert.’ Aoko likely had refused to show her face on television for this.

“Mm.” Kudo blinked and met Saguru’s eyes. “A warning to Kid, maybe, but also a distraction for the police. Let the public think Kid’s really dead to lure out the real Kid from hiding.”

“Do they really think Kid would come out for this?”

“He does tend to take offense to copycats. But it could be a warning to their own men too. Kid isn’t allowed to live much longer one way or another. If they don’t do the job, they’ll be dead too.”

They both digested that, feeling the weight of the threat and time closing in on them. “It would be too much to hope that the man’s identity would give us a lead,” Saguru said, sighing.

“He might not even be in the system,” Kudo agreed.

“Do you think it means that they’ve noticed?” Saguru asked. “That we’re starting to make a move?”

Kudo tilted his head to the side, a half shrug. “It’s possible. I’d think they’d make a more direct threat if that was the case though.”

“A police body rather than a sniper.”

“Probably.”

The heavy weight of reality hung between them. Lives would be lost doing this. People would die, on either side of the law. But people would die if they did nothing as well. Saguru took a long swallow of coffee, felt it burn down his throat and coat his tongue with unpleasant bitterness. It was the horribly strong sort of coffee that he tended to find at police offices rather than anything of good taste; Kudo likely had grown used to it and only liked it that way anymore. One swallow had him feeling more awake already though.

It was six in the morning here. It would be eleven at night in London, too late to call the police station like Saguru kept putting off. Not too late to call an old friend off the books though. Millard would probably be at home, drowsing off over terrible reality television and a bottle of stout.

“We might need to work a bit faster,” Saguru said.

Kudo grimaced but didn’t disagree. “We can’t go too fast or we’ll mess up and the whole group could get away.”

Saguru nodded. “We’ll need to step up removing them from Japan at least. I’ll talk to Kid later... Right now I have a call to make.”

“To London?” Kudo asked, sharp even this early in the morning.

“You’ve pulled in your American friends. It’s about time I called on my British ones.” He’d meant to do it already, but it kept being pushed back due to time differences... Saguru could only hope that he could still trust them. Ultimately, it was Millard’s judgment he’d be trusting though. He did trust Millard. Saguru drained his coffee and grimaced at the aftertaste. The news changed over to report an ongoing construction project, no longer anything that concerned him.

***

The call rang through, echoing tinny over the cell reception. It looked, for a moment, like no one would answer, but then the call picked up, Millard’s familiar Scottish voice coming through the speaker. “` _ello_?” He sounded half awake. _“Who’s calling?”_

“Millard, it’s Saguru.”

“ _Saguru_?” Saguru could all but see Millard wiping away the day’s exhaustion, latching on to Saguru’s voice like he had done many times before in their friendship. “ _Awful late to be calling. Or early for you, eh? And a call again so soon. How did things turn out with those reporters sniffing around?”_

“Not the best,” Saguru admitted. “Despite progress made over the last decade, it is still something of a scandal to be publicly outed, more so because of my public presence in the past. I’m afraid I am not calling to chat about that though. I assume you saw the news recently? I know that Kid’s heist made international news.”

“ _Ah, that. Bad luck, that. No one was killed, yeah? There were rumors going around that your thief bit it_.” _Your thief_. It hadn’t just been Mel who called Kid Saguru’s thief.

“There is no conclusive evidence that Kid is dead, but it does appear that he’s been injured,” Saguru said. Better not to confirm or deny anything on the Kid end of things. “I’m calling because I believe I have a lead in Mel’s case.”

“ _A lead from Japan?”_

“I know. I was rather surprised as well as I wasn’t even looking. There was a commonality among several cases including this last Kid heist that point back to a certain international company, a branch of which was involved in Mel’s case.” Saguru hesitated. “It was also involved with my knee injury, but that was a different branch years before.” He almost held his breath, hoping his friend wouldn’t accuse him of grasping for straws. “I know it’s a stretch, but there are files... That company has had indirect deaths around them multiple other occasions and I truly believe I’m onto something with this.”

_“What’s the company name?”_

“Ambrosia Industries. They’re in Japan, but they’re affiliated with Progenetics, which was the theft case I was investigating when Mel died. Remember how I said that they were probably aiming for me and hit him by mistake? Elysium Company was involved with the case my knee was shot out on. They’re subsidiaries of Ambrosia Industries. A...friend...” For what else could Kudo be considered at this point? “...has run into murder cases at several other subsidies of the company. When Kid was shot down, it was from a sniper on the Industry’s roof.  It could all be coincidence but...”

“ _But when that many coincidences line up, it’s more likely to be a trend_ ,” Millard agreed. “ _You think whatever was stolen from your case is relevant?”_

“Most likely. Another stretch, but Kid’s target has been a gem linked to an immortality myth. Meanwhile we have a cosmetics and pharmaceutical conglomerate working on anti-aging serums and medicines.” It made perfect sense if you bought into the mythos of the gem. “It could easily have been research related to that that was stolen—the details of what, exactly, was taken were never clear other than it was important research documents. Much like the case fifteen years ago actually, albeit the other way around instead of the company stealing an outside researcher’s information.” Saguru tapped fingers along the edge of the phone case. “I know that doesn’t give you much to work with. At the time the company was dismissed as the missing employee was the most likely culprit, but looking at what we’ve learned, it’s likely the employee was disappeared by the company rather than the one who shot at us. The motive was never clear on any of it though, and without the missing research showing up, there wasn’t any tracking what was done to it let alone the person who took it...”

 _“What exactly are you asking me t’do_?” Millard asked, all sleepiness long gone by now.

“Watch the company. If you can do it discreetly, check to see if any past cases were involved with it or one of the subsidiaries in a list I’ll send you. But Millard...” Saguru hesitated again. It was a lot to ask of a friend, let alone one that he had dropped out of touch with. “Be careful. Whatever this is, it’s big and it’s international. They’re in large brand name companies. They’re in politics. They’re on the police force. Don’t involve anyone you wouldn’t trust with your life. And watch your back because they will kill.”

 _“Is that all then?_ ” Millard said with familiar bravado. “ _I’ll do my best. You wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important. For you and Mel. And I know you’ll be neck deep in this shit yerself. Don’t you get shot up too.”_

“I’ll do my best,” Saguru echoed.

 _“Good to hear from y’though.”_ Millard sounded sincere despite the risks Saguru was inviting down upon him with his request.

“You as well.” It made him miss the easy friendship they had had once upon a time. “Next time I’m in London, we’ll have to catch up properly.”

 _“You can buy me a drink and judge me for ruining my liver,”_ Millard agreed. “ _Hopefully that won’t be in another half a year.”_

“We’ll see.” He’d return to London at some point. There were still things unfinished there. Things he’d left unfinished when he ran. He didn’t think he would return to London permanently though; he was building a new life in Japan that was filling the holes the ruins of his old life had left. “Get some sleep.”

Millard laughed. _“Catch some criminals for me.”_

“Goodnight.” He disconnected the call. Somewhere halfway around the world, Millard was still laughing to himself as he got ready for bed. And Saguru had a full day ahead of him.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit shorter chapter, but another extra some point this week :)

By the time Saguru got in touch with Aoko, the body on the news had been identified as Ichiyose Gen, a supposedly mild mannered accountant for a law firm just outside of Tokyo. Ichiyose had been much less inconspicuous once his apartment had been searched. While the apartment proper was clean to the point of barrenness, the police had found a hidden compartment in the closet with rifle shells, indicating that Kudo’s hypothesis that the man was the mystery sniper were correct. Of course Aoko wasn’t supposed to have shared any of this and the whole thing was being hushed up. As of yet, there were no clear connections to anyone or why Ichiyose had been left in Kid’s costume.

The law firm wasn’t connected to anything that Saguru could see in the greater picture they were building. Ichiyose had just been a man. A hired killer, most likely, but not anyone important, a contract killer with a front job to maintain, no clear motives, no trail of his history to lead back to other targets or anything. There had been no papers in the apartment of use, no mysterious bank statements with suspicious influxes of cash, no digital trail to mark how he kept in contact with potential clients. It was all a blank slate, like anything beyond the rifle shells had been removed. Even the gun wasn’t there.

It added up to a frustrating amount of nothing and very little for the police to work off of except looking to the law firm as a possible shell company with whom Ichiyose could have met targets. Or, of course, the rifle shells could have been planted, the presence of the Kid costume left merely to confuse, and everyone could be devoting effort and resources to something that had nothing to do with Kid or the group they were after at all. Or it could be a distraction by them and Ichiyose an unfortunate victim. There were too many loose ends and uncertainties to say for sure, and Saguru didn’t have the authority to look into it closer.

“I’ll let you know if anything comes out of it,” Aoko had said before she hung up his call.

And so Saguru was left grasping at air for leads again. It was terribly frustrating. The documents Kid gave had names and people and companies, but unless they were caught in the act on things, there wasn’t much way to bring them down. And even then, it would be a matter of striking the right place; strike too low and you caught a handful of people who only knew the periphery of what was going on. Attempt to strike too high, and there could be positions of power to cover things up, shove aside your efforts or spirit people away. Timing would be everything, and that kind of timing required a good deal of effort made across the board to synch up everyone involved to hit as broadly and effectively as possible. It was the ones in the police and legal systems and those high up in corporations and politics that would be the hard ones to hit. The ones who had lawyers to stall and misdirect and drain resources. The ones in positions of power that could halt everything or call it all a hoax to ruin their name.

They would need people in high places to help. Unfortunately, it was hard to know who could be trusted.

Meanwhile, Aoko was stretched thin investigating the bomber, Kid’s disappearance, the sniper, and now this latest body. Saguru made a mental note to check in with his father; despite being retired, he’d likely kept up with who was in charge, and could probably give a decent theory on who was more likely to be trusted. Add that to Kuroba’s notes, and maybe they would finally get somewhere. What they needed most was an opening, catching someone in this massive group in the act. If they could manage to trace any actions that happened after, figure out who covered things up or find other links...

Easier said than done though. There were no leads on the bombs and the sniper was most likely dead.

Saguru rejoined the others in the kitchen and found Kudo heading out.

“I think it’s time for me to do a bit of legwork,” he said. “I’m going to get any information about Ichiyose that I can, and hopefully find some clues that lead somewhere. Then I figure I’ll check out the buildings near the cosmetics company. Going to the building itself might tip them off, but maybe looking around the area would help.”

“I’ll go through more files.” Bit by bit they were gaining a concept of the group’s structure. It was only a matter of time and effort before it all began to pull together. When he could, Saguru was cross referencing things to information Aoko and Nakamori had given him, fitting cases to faces and tracking who had most likely redacted parts of the files, who would have had the influence to seal them away. This was vital evidence for cleaning up the poison in the police force. It was also the most tedious part of it all. He missed the days where legwork hadn’t been too physically demanding for him to do much of.

***

Saguru woke with the mild confusion of someone finding themselves in a room they were unfamiliar with, with the hazy uncertainty for why he woke in the first place. Kudo’s guest bedroom was more comfortable than the futon Saguru was currently used to sleeping on, but the walls had unfamiliar shadows and an unfamiliar ceiling. He stared at it blearily, no street light from outdoors radiating through the blinds to throw black against the white, just gray fading into darker gray.

Then a soft scuff against wooden floors jolted him awake; he wasn’t alone. Saguru shot upright, hand grasping for something nearby to use as a weapon and only coming up with the book he’d been reading before bed.

The person in the deepest shadows of the room paused.

Saguru slumped in relief when they moved into the dim light coming through the window. “Chikage-san,” he said. Kuroba Chikage, Kuroba’s mother and someone he had only seen in photos and interacted briefly in phone conversations. His relief didn’t last long as the strangeness of it all caught up with his tired brain. “What are you doing here?”

“Saguru-san,” Chikage said. She didn’t look much older than the photos of her at thirty-four had looked, a few more lines around her eyes and a streak of gray in her hair the only signs of age that Saguru could pick out in the dark.

“Kuroba’s in the room down the hall,” Saguru said as she leaned against the windowsill.

“I saw him already,” she said. He had the unsettling feeling of being weighed by her stare. “You and Kudo-san are leading the search for the organization.”

“...Yes?” She’d chosen a spot that put half her face in light, but it put the other half in shadow, much like Kid’s face was forever shadowed, only vertically instead of horizontally. There was the same promise of motion that Kuroba had in how she held herself, ready to flee or dodge or attack the way someone was when they were forever targeted. It was clear that whatever Kuroba Chikage filled her time with abroad, it wasn’t the safe, quiet sort of activities one would expect from a retiree. If he remembered correctly, there had been a rumor—or was it fact?—that Kid and the thief Phantom Lady were related. Phantom Lady had vanished from the public eye not long after Kid’s first appearance, interestingly enough. In fact, the two of them had even met at the same heist if Hakuba was remembering the details correctly. In France, during one of Kuroba Toichi’s world tours as a stage magician.

“You’re going to need proof of what they’re doing.”

“...Kuroba has provided a good deal of that,” Saguru said.

“For the companies in Japan,” she agreed. “He never did much with Kid’s reputation as an international thief.”

Kuroba Chikage, if Saguru remembered correctly, had spent a good deal of time abroad in the United States and Europe while Kuroba was a teenager. There was nothing to say that she hadn’t continued this, her absence when Kuroba was injured only adding to the assumption that these trips had continued. “Chikage-san, are you offering proof?”

Her smile in the dark wasn’t Kid’s smile that invited you to share in his mischief. It was a much darker smile that would be better fitting on a crocodile right before it snapped. “I’m sure as someone raised around police, you know how long it actually takes to get a proper arrest and sentencing sometimes. Finding proof when it’s been purposefully obscured and destroyed, getting a confession when they don’t want to confess... I think Kaito would be satisfied to take out their presence in just Japan at this point. But you can’t just kill the pests in your home if they’re all around waiting to fill in whatever you flush out. Power vacuums mean something fills it, right, Saguru-kun?”

The less switch in honorific made his tired brain pause. “What do you have?” He focused on the glint of her eyes and the silver curve of her smile in the dark.

“Financial records,” Chikage said. “Voice recordings. Surveillance footage that was supposed to have been erased. Research notes confirming unauthorized and illegal human testing. Locations of bodies gone missing, details of backdoor transactions, evidence of weapon smuggling across country and continental lines.” Saguru felt his eyes go wide as she listed things on her fingers. “Over two decades is a long time to put yourself in the right position and gather up allies.”

If that was true, ever since Toichi’s death, Chikage had been playing the long game, having a public and private persona and digging in deep to the criminal underworld. Saguru shivered. She’d let her son play target and lure and used his distraction to accomplish what he couldn’t. “Even with all of that,” he said finally, throat feeling tight with the enormity of it all, “to catch a group of this size...”

“They’re big,” Chikage acknowledged. “So when this breaks, it will have to be equally big, big enough that it can’t be buried. Bigger than Kudo’s takedown. You light up the world so there’s nowhere left to hide and make all their dirty laundry visible.”

“What are you planning?”

“The internet is a useful thing,” Chikage said. “A wonderful resource that’s only truly come into its own the last few decades. It’s hard to cover up anything that’s been leaked there...”

“An info dump,” Saguru said, understanding. “You plan to leak everything you’ve compiled so that the people involved can’t hide, air everything for the world to see.”

Chikage’s smile was predatory. “Of course it will work best if it’s coordinated with a police effort at the same time the dump happens. We’ve always needed to have more help from the inside, but it’s a bit hard when you’re working with criminals to get them to trust the police and vice versa. I had hoped it would be Aoko, but that opportunity was lost a while ago.”

Saguru looked at her. Her hair was neat, her face deceptively young, but she still looked like someone’s mother. Unassuming. No one would ever guess what lurked beneath that exterior or the quick mind that had to exist behind her brown eyes. He hadn’t realized in the messages they’d exchanged about Kuroba what lurked in her. He felt infinitely lucky that she seemed to have decided he was an ally instead of a threat. How close had he come to being under her watch as a teen? He surely would have been seen as much more of a threat. “It will still take a bit of time to organize things,” Saguru said.

“What is a few months compared to years.” She stepped forward, in shadow again and far too close to Saguru. He was uncomfortably aware of how sheets were still tangled around his legs and that there was nowhere to go to should she decide to turn that reigned in aggression on him. “You’ve insinuated yourself into my family’s lives pretty deeply in the few months I’ve been gone,” she said. Her face was entirely unreadable; Saguru didn’t know her well enough to pick up little tells like he could with Kuroba. “The phone conversations we’ve had led me to believe you care about Kaito’s wellbeing. Your actions so far have backed that up.”

There was an intense weight of judgment in how she stood over him, but this wasn’t the first time Saguru had been judged by someone’s parent, and compared to the contempt Mel’s parents had shown him for years after they’d been his in-laws, this wasn’t quite as heavy. He’d never felt like he might have to worry about getting stabbed by Mel’s parents though.

“He trusts you,” Chikage said after a deeply unsettling silence. “I am not sure I understand it but so long as you keep putting his safety first, I’ll trust you as well. Kaito is rarely wrong in where he places his trust.”

A light knock on the doorframe broke the stifling intensity of the room. Both of their heads turned toward the sound.

Kuroba, dressed in one of the various yukata he’d been in since he was first brought to the Kudo home, leaned along the doorway. It was meant to look casual but it was a far cry from his usual poker face. He was too pale for one. “The air’s so thick you could cut it,” Kuroba said, voice light.

Saguru was half out of his bed a half second later as the surprise wore off. “Kuroba!” He brushed past Chikage, stumbling toward Kuroba. “You’re not supposed to be up!”

“I am capable of walking to the bathroom,” Kuroba said.

“This isn’t the bathroom and no, you’re supposed to be on bed rest!”

“That sharp tongued doctor is going to yell at you,” Chikage sighed. She didn’t sound surprised though, walking past Saguru to get to Kuroba first and offer a shoulder in support.

“I’m healing fine. Better than fine, ask her.” Kuroba accepted his mother’s help while Saguru could only stand and feel useless.

“Be that as it may,” Saguru said, “please don’t aggravate your wounds.”

Kuroba rolled his eyes. “The world needs to stop treating me like glass.” And yet he made no move to refuse a helping hand and his face was still too pale. Saguru itched to guide him to the nearest flat surface—even if that flat surface was Saguru’s own bed. “And Kaa-san, you need to stop threatening people.”

“I have to test the detectives in your life,” Chikage said, “after all you can’t do much to defend yourself right now.”

“Well it’s a good thing I don’t need to defend myself then.” Kuroba leaned against his mother with a tight smile. “Don’t let her lead you into a plan you can’t handle.”

“Would I do that?” Chikage said. “If I remember correctly, you’re the one who plans impossible things.”

“We’re magicians, we live to make the impossible a reality,” Kuroba said with a judicious sniff. “Hakuba’s not a magician, he just deals with regular old reality. No one is making any stupid, life threatening plans, okay?”

“Noted,” Saguru said. “Not that I planned to risk any more than is already implicit in any of this. Now could you please return to your room and rest?”

“And I took the time to come and see you,” Kuroba said, with a put upon and overly exaggerated sigh.

“I’m touched,” Saguru said. It was slow going back down the hallway, slow enough that Saguru wondered how the hell Kuroba had managed on his own let alone silently enough to surprise them. Kuroba was right about always pulling the impossible. He shouldn’t be able to walk at all yet. Chikage was terribly gentle with Kuroba as she helped him back into bed. Saguru held back sheets to let Kuroba get comfortable but Chikage was the one to pull them up. It was a reminder that Kuroba was someone’s child, like Saguru was Mum’s son, like all of them were all children for someone, and it gave him a glimpse at what Kuroba’s early childhood might have been like. Chikage gentle but not taking any of Kuroba’s complaints or protests that he could settle himself back into a bed just fine. Joking back that he could say that as soon as he was able to walk without hiding his pain. It wasn’t the sort of exasperated doting that Mum would have done. Too efficient, but there was care there. Care that a younger Saguru had wondered about when he learned that Kuroba spent most of his time alone, and that Saguru had compared to his life in Japan with his father who always worked and a governess as his usual meal companion and had concluded that both of their lives could be lonely. Whether Kuroba Chikage cared about her son wasn’t a question anymore.

Saguru met Chikage’s eyes over her son and they had silent agreement; he’d work with her and her plan and they’d crush the organization as much as possible. For Kaito’s sake.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter because I kept debating where to break things and this worked best. BUT there is another extra this week about the same length so... *insert shrug emoji*

The soft scuffing of footsteps stirred in the back of Saguru’s sleepy brain. He wanted to bury himself further in the sheet over his futon and block it out. He wasn’t getting enough sleep as it was. “K`roba, go away,” he mumbled, face pressed against his pillow. The scuffing paused. Saguru frowned, knowing something was off but what..?

Kuroba was at Kudo’s home. Kuroba couldn’t get in Saguru’s apartment right now if he tried.

Saguru jolted up from the pillow and found Takumi crouched a few feet away.

“What,” Saguru asked, heart hammering too fast in his chest, “the bloody fucking hell are you doing here?” He might have said that in English. He wasn’t awake enough for this it was only.... He squinted at the glowing red numbers on his alarm clock. It was only four in the morning, and Saguru went to bed only two and a half hours ago.

“Did you think I was Tou-san?” Takumi asked. “How often does Tou-san break into your apartment that you’d think I was him?”

Saguru blinked sleep out of his eyes. “Often enough.” He couldn’t parse the expression that passed Takumi’s face. Who knew what sort of scenarios were going on in his head? “You’re grounded. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I’m not supposed to visit Tou-san. Kaa-san never said I couldn’t visit you, and she lifted the ban to let me go to lacrosse practice again.”

“At four in the morning?”

“Practice starts at six. I left before Kaa-san woke up and I’ll be at the school in time for practice.” Takumi grinned in the dim light, teeth gleaming. God he looked far too much like a teenage Kuroba, enough that Saguru could almost convince himself this was a strange, sleep-deprived dream. “I wanted to check in since Kaa-san dodges my questions.”

Of course. Saguru rubbed a hand over his face. Well. He was awake now, or as awake as he was going to be. “Do you mind if I just...?” He waved a hand. Takumi stepped back, taking a seat at Saguru’s desk as Saguru pulled himself from his futon. He was uncomfortably aware that he had on only a torn t-shirt with a theatre slogan across the front and a pair of exercise shorts he only ever used for summer sleep pants. He started making tea on autopilot. “You picked the front lock?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want to knock and wake up the whole floor.”

Of course. It came as no surprise that Takumi could pick locks. It wasn’t something that Kuroba would skip teaching him.

Only when fresh brewed black tea scorched skin off his mouth and throat did Saguru feel a little more awake. Saguru sat at the kitchen table, the room between them, just the light over the stove on to see a bit better. Takumi didn’t touch his own cup of tea other than to turn it around a few times. Saguru couldn’t help but note the complete absence of lacrosse gear. Granted that could have been left outside. “You came to check in?” Saguru prompted, blowing on his tea before his next sip so he’d lose fewer taste buds to the hot liquid.

 “How’s Kid?” Takumi asked. Saguru had expected a question about Kuroba, but considering how they had parted...

“Recovering,” Saguru said. He could make out a fraction of the tension in Takumi’s shoulders loosen. Of course he would be concerned, he’d watched him fall, had Kid’s blood on his hands just as Saguru had. “Haibara-san is hopeful that there will be no lasting damages, remarkably enough. There has been no infection and no lasting damage from the concussion.”

Takumi nodded slowly. He turned the teacup around on Saguru’s desk again and Saguru’s intuition screamed that something was amiss. “And how’s Tou-san?” Takumi asked. He was more focused on the teacup than on Saguru as he asked.

“...also recovering.” The air felt heavy. Saguru hoped this wasn’t going the direction he suspected it was going.

“Kaa-san said it was a car accident,” Takumi said.

Saguru nodded slowly. “His right side was hurt badly from the impact. Remarkably, he didn’t have any life threatening injuries.”

“Do you think the damage from a car accident is as bad as Kid crashing his glider?” Takumi asked, looking up from his hands.

“That...would depend on the severity of the car accident,” Saguru said on autopilot, a sinking feeling in his gut. In that moment, meeting Takumi’s eyes, Saguru knew that Takumi knew the truth. Saguru set down his teacup. “Takumi-kun—”

“You know,” Takumi said softly, “don’t you. You’ve known the whole time.”

“I don’t know what you me—”

“Don’t lie to me Hakuba-sensei. You have a shitty poker face.” Takumi’s expression crumpled. “You said you wouldn’t lie. About my parents. You said that you didn’t think Tou-san was Kid.” He curled in on himself. “Though I guess it isn’t _thinking_ if you _know_ it.”

“Takumi-kun,” Saguru tried again, but Takumi shook his head, shaking off Saguru’s words before he could even say them.

“Save your excuses,” Takumi said. He hugged himself, looking back down at his untouched teacup again. “Would you have told me,” he asked in a horrible, distant voice, “if he’d died? Would you have told me that I saw Tou-san die or would I have just attended his funeral and never known about any or this?”

Saguru hesitated a second too long and Takumi looked back up, his face gone cold and blank, like a somber parody of Kuroba’s preferred poker face.

“I thought as much,” Takumi said.

“I wanted to tell you,” Saguru said, aware that the wrong words could make everything even worse. “Your parents felt that it was safer for you not to know and didn’t want me interfering.”

“Safer.” Takumi’s voice cracked. “Safer, when Kaa-san is out there chasing people who plant bombs and snipe people off buildings and Tou-san throws himself out like a giant target. How is it safer? How is it safer to know nothing when for all I know there could be a bomb showing up at home one day just because of who Kaa-san is? How is it safer to not know that Tou-san could have died at any moment my whole life?”

“I am sure they thought it was better to keep you from worrying,” Saguru said cautiously. He wanted to reach out but he had the feeling that doing so would only get his hand slapped away. “Just like Aoko-san didn’t want you to know how dangerous her job could be.”

“You think I didn’t worry?” Takumi asked. His voice hitched and Saguru realized he had started crying, tears almost completely silent as they dripped down his face. “I worry every time there’s a news article with another mention of a sniper at a Kid heist. I worry every time Kaa-san doesn’t get home on time. I worry every time I see her go without sleep or when she brushes off my questions. And all this time I didn’t even know I should have worried about Tou-san too. I used to think, well at least Tou-san has a safe job. But that’s not even true, he’s even worse than Kaa-san and I might never have known even after he _died._ ” Takumi pressed hands to his face, hiding his tears. There was a frustrated grimace on his face that Saguru wished he could wipe away along with the tears. “Tou-san almost died.”

Saguru moved closer. “Takumi-kun...”

“No wonder Kaa-san divorced him. No wonder she hates Kid. And Tou-san’s the _second_ Kid and that means _Ojii-san died_ because he was Kid and...!”

“Takumi-kun...” Saguru touched his shoulder and an elbow knocked his arm away.

Takumi glared at him through his tears. “You’re all so stupid,” he said, choking on sobs that tried to warp his words as they left his lips. “Who benefits from any of this? We’re all miserable and it’s all Kid’s fault! Tou-san’s half dead, they’re not going to leave him alone, and Kid’s more important than any of us, clearly.”

“That isn’t true.” That Saguru was convinced of; Kid didn’t mean more to Kuroba than his son. More than his marriage, more than Aoko, perhaps, but Saguru didn’t doubt that Kuroba would toss away Kid’s identity if he thought it would help Takumi rather than damn him at this point. For Kuroba who didn’t have his father growing up, his relationship with Takumi had to mean everything. Kuroba had just been Kid so long that he couldn’t stop until he saw it through to its end. It wasn’t safe not to by this point. Not any safer than being Kid was at least.

“Of course you defend it,” Takumi said.  “You’re so stupid in love with him you’d forgive him for anything.”

The words were meant to hurt, and they did, more because of the unexpectedness than anything else.

“So stupid,” Takumi repeated.

Saguru couldn’t bring himself to deny Takumi’s words. They were true after all. His hand hovered a bit away, still outstretched with the desire to comfort even if it wasn’t accepted. It hurt to watch. This must be what it looked like when Aoko found out, after the rage passed. Then, Kuroba probably looked like this when he cried too. “I’m sorry,” Saguru said. “I’m sorry you had to learn this way.”

Takumi shook his head. He stumbled out of Saguru’s chair, spilling tea down the desk as he bumped it in his haste. “I need to go.”

Alarm lanced through him. It was still only four in the morning. Where would he go? “Takumi-kun, I don’t think—”

“Just leave me alone!” Takumi yelled. He dashed for Saguru’s door, still half tear-blind. The apartment door slammed open against the wall.

Saguru ran after him, or tried to at least. He made it as far as halfway down the stairs before his knee gave out and he had to clutch at the railing to keep from falling down the rest of the way headfirst. “Damn it to hell!” he snarled into the muggy July morning. This was bad. This was Takumi having his life come crashing down. This was the curtain being pulled away and seeing the messy framework in how Kuroba and Aoko’s marriage had fallen apart. This was a boy losing all trust in the adults in his life and Saguru couldn’t even find words to ease this or follow after to keep him from doing anything stupid.

Saguru dragged himself upstairs and ignored the thump on his wall as his neighbor complained about his noise by being noisy back. He dragged his cell phone out of a puddle of tea, wiped it off on his pyjamas, and pulled up Aoko’s number.

“Takumi knows,” he said as soon as the call picked up, before a word could be spoken on the other end. “He broke into my apartment and ran off when he didn’t like my answers. He’s upset and angry and I don’t know where he went.”

Aoko didn’t swear a blue streak like Saguru thought she would, there was just a long silence on the other end before a soft, “ _Fuck_.” The phone went silent, presumably as Aoko hung up to try and contact Takumi. Saguru sighed shakily.

If he was a teenage boy whose world had just come crashing down on his ears, where would he go? ...At nineteen when his own world had had a bit of a crash, he hadn’t been able to go anywhere, first bleeding and in shock, then stuck in a hospital. But Saguru supposed in his own way he’d ended up running to his mother in the end as she was the person he was closest to, living with her while he recovered and not going back to Japan even after. Takumi would go somewhere he felt safe, most likely a friend’s home. Probably Momoi’s home, close as they were. If not there...the school? His middle school? Lacrosse fields? Saguru didn’t know any places that had significant memories for Takumi to run to. He still barely knew him at all.

Takumi had known Saguru was in love with Kuroba. Known it and apparently accepted it. That was...something Saguru was going to need to process eventually. Now he supposed he should call Kuroba. Someone had to let him know.

The phone rang and rang on the other end; no surprise. Kuroba would be asleep and still on pain meds. The second time calling, it picked up. “Kuroba?”

 _“Hakuba?_ ” Kuroba said, and good, it was him, not someone checking in and picking up his cell phone for him. “ _What happened that you’re calling me so early?”_

Another day, for something else, Saguru would joke and Kuroba would joke back, but this wasn’t something that would ever be a joke between them. “I had a visitor,” Saguru said. “Takumi-kun.” He went into a bit more detail than the brief message he had given Aoko, laying out what had happened though he held back Takumi’s accusation. He could feel the weight of every word in Kuroba’s silence, barely even breathing on the other end. “I told Aoko,” he finished, hating that he had to be the one to witness each member of the Kuroba family break, hated to be the one whose words started it. “She’s probably looking for him now.”

 _“He’s with Shiemi,_ ” Kuroba said. “ _I’m pretty sure she guessed a while back, but was waiting for me to say something._ ” His voice was dead of emotion. “ _She’s the person he’d go to if he’s upset.”_

“I’m sorry,” Saguru said. “He was convinced before he got here I think... I wasn’t prepared enough to try and talk him out of it.”

 _“It’s not your fault, Hakuba. It’s my secret._ ” What sort of expression was on Kuroba’s face right now? Was it the same one he had when he talked about his divorce? Of losing his father? If there was a way to take away all the hurt between Aoko, Kuroba, and Takumi, Saguru would do it in a heartbeat. “ _I knew he’d probably learn one day. The thing with secrets is they always come out eventually... You’d think between my dad and Aoko I’d learn that_.” Kuroba sighed. “ _At least I’m not dead when he found out.”_

There are so many things that he could say to that that it takes a moment to choose the right one. “You almost were,” Saguru said, “and I think that is what hurts the most.”

 _“Oh_.” Kuroba made a sound that was a distant cousin to his usual laugh. _“I guess you can say you told me so. We should have said something to him.”_

“I think that no matter how he learned, he wouldn’t have been okay with it.”

 _“He’s a lot like Aoko in that_ ,” Kuroba said.

He thought he was going to be rejected by his son too, Saguru realized.  Be hated like Aoko hated him. “He’s a lot like you too, though,” he said. Because Takumi had accepted Saguru having a past with his parents and his loving Kuroba much like Kuroba had forgiven Saguru for everything he’d been put through. Takumi had a greater capacity for forgiveness than Aoko did and his love for his father was nowhere near as two-sided as anything Aoko felt. But ultimately, Takumi wasn’t either of his parents and he’d make his own choices.

 _“I know._ ” Kuroba’s voice hitched on the other end of the line. _“I think that’s what scares me most.”_ All Saguru needed to be on the same page was to look at how Takumi could mirror Kuroba’s life. If Kuroba had died... The world didn’t need a third generation of Kid. _“I’ll get in touch with Shiemi. Try to get more sleep, Hakuba_.”

“I am sorry,” Saguru repeated. He’d wanted them to talk to Takumi, for Takumi to know the truth, but he had never wanted it to happen this way.

 _“I know,_ ” Kuroba said. Neutral, in control. _“It’s my mess, Hakuba. You shouldn’t feel sorry for getting caught up in it.”_

“I think that by now it’s all of our mess,” Saguru said.

Kuroba made a noncommittal sound. “ _Thanks for the warning.”_

“Things will work their way out.”

_“I hope so.”_

Kuroba hung up not long after, the silence between them heavy.

The truth, Saguru thought, was never as simple as one hoped it would be. Nor so straightforward.


	27. Chapter 27

Saguru didn’t find out what happened with Takumi right away. It wasn’t until he went to Kudo’s home a few hours later that he realized Takumi had taken a route none of them had expected and had chosen to confront Kuroba. He arrived in time to hear yelling the moment he stepped through the door. A wide-eyed Midori greeted him and glomped onto his leg before he could really process anything.

“He’s been yelling and Kaa-san isn’t sure what to do,” Midori said.

“Where is your father?” Saguru asked, gently touching her shoulder.

“Tou-san took Hanae-neechan to get stuff at the store...” She looked up at Saguru, fear and worry clear on her face. “He’s not going to hurt Kid-san is he? Kid-san is nice and reads us stories and is still getting better, Kaa-san said.”

“He’s not going to hurt Kid,” Saguru said.

“You sure? He’s really mad.”

Saguru crouched closer to her level, and she let go of his leg to grip his hand instead. “Takumi-kun is upset right now, but he cares about Kid very much and is scared because Kid is hurt. He isn’t going to hurt him more.” The worry in Midori’s eyes faded a bit. Saguru gave her a smile though he felt anything but optimistic at the moment. “Can you ask your mother to make some tea? I think we’re going to need some.”

Midori hesitated, then nodded and ran off, glad to feel useful. The worst feeling was feeling like you couldn’t do anything. Ran met Saguru halfway down the hallway with Midori at her side. Here Saguru could hear Kuroba’s tense voice answering back between pauses in Takumi’s voice.

“I would have pulled him out of the room,” Ran said, “but it seemed like they needed to get this off their chests.”

“They do,” Saguru agreed. “If I can get them to calm down, tea might help transition it to more of an actual conversation...”

“Of course.”

Ran took Midori and Saguru continued down the hall.

Takumi was barely in the doorway to Kuroba’s room, the space between him and Kuroba’s bed a chasm. His shoulders were tense and hands fisted as he yelled at Kuroba and it was the most upset Saguru had seen him, and perhaps the most like Aoko. He didn’t have Aoko’s flash-fire anger, but once angered, it burned in his eyes the same way, missing only the violent edge that Aoko’s rage had always carried. Kuroba had always had a cold anger that Saguru personally found much scarier than explosive anger. Right then, Kuroba was closed up and defensive and angry as well even if he wasn’t expressing it the same way.

“Right,” Takumi said, “because just _stopping_ because you’re asked is so hard!”

“And I already said, it’s not that simple—”

“Fuck simple! It shouldn’t have been a choice! Kaa-san asked you to choose and you chose Kid over her and me! You chose your goals and clinging to the past over what you had in that moment and you don’t think that hurts me?”

“Aoko didn’t even give a choice, she just left!”

“You think she wouldn’t have come back if you’d quit? All you did was make her angrier and angrier by digging the knife deeper all these years and for what? You nearly dying over and over again? You should have just ended it!”

“I’ve been trying!” Kuroba yelled back. “It just won’t end!” The air felt fragile as he stared at Takumi with such a broken expression that Saguru wanted to hide his face away, smooth the pain back into the calm Kuroba usually had and take all his problems away. They were both near tears, but it was Takumi who broke first, glaring through them. “I want to end it so badly,” Kuroba said into the hush his raised voice had left.

“Then _do it_ ,” Takumi said. “This,” he jabbed a hand at Kuroba’s injured state, “is never happening again. You are never going to paint a target on yourself again. It ends here.”

Saguru cleared his throat, stepping in before one or the other got back up to yelling again. “Actually, that is what we are currently working on,” Saguru said. “It was too big for Kid on his own, but working with detectives with his years of resources and proof, we should actually be able to stop them and let Kid rest.”

“Kudo-san,” Takumi said, putting pieces together instantly. “And you. And Kaa-san?”

“She’s helping. Kudo-san has American contacts and I have a few British ones. Kudo-san has reached out to other detectives he trusts that have been involved with Kid, and they are surely looking through their coworkers to those that they trust. We’re moving this along as quickly as we can, but it’s a global organization and there are decades of information to sift through.” Saguru let his voice go softer, watching some of Takumi’s tension ease at knowing someone was doing something. “We don’t want this to happen again either.”

Takumi rubbed hands along his arms, lip trapped between his teeth and a frown still scrunching down his brows. He wasn’t yelling anymore though. “You’re all still detectives though. And Kid’s still a thief.”

“Something that will have to be worked out,” Saguru acknowledged. “Considering the sensitivity of things, Kid could probably manage to be put on a witness protection plan and most of his crimes excused due to the evidence he’s provided.”

“Not all, and no guarantee.”

“No.”

“I could go to jail,” Kuroba said. “But I could have gone to jail at any point the last seventeen years. There’s always a way out if I look for one.”

Takumi sent his father a glare. “This isn’t something to joke about.”

“Who’s joking?” Kuroba said. “If I need to vanish, I will.”

“And just leave me?” Takumi asked, voice small, and ah, that was the root of it all. Losing Kuroba to some extent in the divorce, almost losing him to the sniper, possibly losing him to the justice system, and now maybe to Kuroba’s survival instinct. Under all his anger, Takumi was a boy who didn’t want to lose his father.

“Never,” Kuroba said with conviction. “I’d never leave you without a way to find me.”

Saguru looked away as Takumi crumpled, uncomfortable to watch him break here and now where it felt too personal. “I’m so mad at you,” Takumi said. “So mad.”

“I know,” Kuroba said.

Takumi hiccupped on a sob he tried to suppress, and Saguru glimpsed Kuroba lift the arm not in a sling in the offer of a hug. Takumi took it and Saguru retreated from the room. They needed to have their moment.

Ran was in the kitchen with water heating on the stove for tea as Saguru had requested. Surprisingly, Kudo was back too, with Hanae. They had bags from a conbini with eggs, milk, and colorful candy-coated chocolate. Kudo was in the middle of mixing up what appeared to be pancake batter, a handful of chocolates going into the mix.

“It seems I missed the excitement,” Kudo said.

“They should be alright now,” Saguru said. “I’m sorry I didn’t think to send you a message that Takumi-kun might show up...”

“He figured out Kid was his dad then?” Kudo said.

“Clearly.”

Ran hummed, pulling out teacups. “Well, at least they cleared the air. Hopefully now that it’s out in the open they can move past it. Do you think they’ll want tea now?”

“In a bit,” Saguru said. “Now that they’re not yelling, they should talk.” He hoped they would talk, though whatever they talked about, Saguru hoped it wouldn’t lead to Takumi yelling more.

“They can have tea and pancakes when they’re ready,” Kudo said, spooning multicolored batter into a pan. “It’s funny, I should have expected that Kid’s son would show up just like he has a tendency to do.”

“You know, I honestly thought he was too polite to do so until this morning when he picked my lock,” Saguru mused. “Then again, he did spend the first few weeks as my student pranking me. I had the impression that acting out is an anomaly for him though.”

Midori tugged at Saguru’s pant leg and he leaned over to hear her. She whispered loudly in his ear, “If they start yelling again, Kaa-san gets to put them in a time out.”

“I think that’s a very good idea, Midori-chan,” Saguru said, mirroring the girl’s seriousness.

She nodded and went back to helping her sister set the breakfast table. Honestly, if they started yelling again, separating them would likely be the best idea until everyone calmed down.

The smell of pancakes and sugar filled the air.  The faint sound of a knock echoed down the hall; the front door. Ran want to get it. Saguru looked at Kudo. Kudo shrugged. Not expecting anyone then. Ran’s voice, the sound of another female voice answering her, then the door closing again a few moments later. Ran returned to the kitchen. Aoko followed after her.

“Sorry to barge in on your morning,” Aoko said looking at the domestic breakfast scene. Her eyes lingered on Saguru and she grimaced.

“Nakamori-keibu,” Kudo said, setting down his pancake batter. “What can I do for you? Was there an update with the case?”

“I’m not here on police business.” She glanced at Saguru again. “I’m actually here to pick up my son.”

There was a pause. Kudo hid his surprise well, or maybe it wasn’t all that surprising considering how many of the pieces he’d had all this time. Maybe he’d already put them together.

“I guess I have you to thank for the idiot not dying,” Aoko added. “So thanks. I’d hate for Kid to die and escape justice that way.”

“Not even death can catch him before I do?” Saguru said lightly. The day was too heavy. He missed Kuroba’s jokes and Kuroba wasn’t in a joking mood much lately.

“Isn’t there some English idiom about pots and stones?” Aoko said.

“Pot and kettle,” Saguru said.

“Yeah, that.” Aoko looked like she hadn’t slept in the last twenty-four hours and was running on will and caffeine alone. “Anyway, I’m here for Takumi and he’s grounded until he’s twenty, so sorry to interrupt your breakfast.”

Ran and Kudo shared a look over Aoko’s head as she rubbed a hand across her eyes. Ran made for the coffee pot while Kudo picked up the batter again. “Takumi-kun is still talking with Kid,” Kudo said, “but you’re all welcome to stay for breakfast. It’s pancakes.”

“With chocolate candy inside!” Hanae added. “I got to choose what went in it!”

“I wanted strawberries,” Midori said. “But I like chocolate too.” They were already getting another plate and fork to add to the ones at the table.

Aoko frowned, clearly intending to refuse. Saguru touched her elbow. “Stay a bit? You look like you could use a break.”

“It’s not even your house,” Aoko said, but she sat in the nearest chair. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem,” Ran said. The coffee pot sputtered beside her, adding the smell of fresh coffee to the pancake scent. “We were planning for more people anyway.”

“Are we taking pancakes to Kid-san?” Hanae asked. “Or can he come out and eat here?”

“He’s still supposed to stay in bed,” Ran said.

“I’ll take him some,” Saguru said. He ignored Aoko’s eye roll and sat next to her. “I take it you followed Takumi-kun’s phone here.”

“Of course. He was supposed to go to lacrosse and only to lacrosse, not break into your apartment and run off to Beika,” Aoko sighed. She rubbed her eyes again. “What is even happening lately? Takumi’s always ignored curfew when he’s visiting the idiot, but he never just ignores me like this. I’m not being unreasonably strict am I? Is that why he’s acting out? I don’t even know what to do at this point.”

“I think it’s less any one thing you did as a parent and more Takumi-kun reacting to the situation as a whole,” Saguru said.

“He’s also a teenager,” Kudo added from the stove. “Teenagers push boundaries. I know I was at that age.”

Ran snorted. “You were living on your own at that age; there weren’t any boundaries to push.”

“I disagree. I pushed Agasa’s boundaries, school and police boundaries and dragged you into all kinds of trouble.”

Aoko listened to their back and forth with something between a smile and a frown, too tired to really react. When Ran gave her a cup of fresh brewed coffee, she drank it, still folded in on herself. It was wrong to see her looking so defeated. By the time Shinichi’s pancake batter was gone, she’d drank a cup and a half and looked a bit more calm than when she got there, though no less exhausted. 

Saguru excused himself with a tray of tea and pancakes as the Kudo family put their breakfast in order. Kuroba had moved over on the bed enough to make room for Takumi on the edge. When Saguru got to the room, Takumi was tucked against Kuroba’s less injured side, half asleep. They looked wrung out and frayed at the edges, and Kuroba didn’t have his mask up. Saguru felt a bit bad to intrude since it looked like things were finally calm, but Kuroba met his eyes when he walked in.

“Breakfast,” Saguru said, lifting the tray a bit higher. “And not one that Haibara-san would approve of.” For the most part she’d had Kuroba on a strict diet in meeting all the nutrients that would speed up his healing. Saguru set the tray on the bedside table as Kuroba kept running a hand down Takumi’s back like he was a child much younger than fourteen. “Aoko is here,” he said softly.

“Ah.” Kuroba sighed. “Should have expected that. Guess I don’t have much a façade to hide behind anymore do I?”

“Not much of one,” Saguru agreed. “Is Takumi-kun okay?”

Takumi stirred against Kuroba’s side. “I’m fine,” he rasped. “Kaa-san came to get me?”

“Yes.”

“Is she angry?”

“More tired than angry, I think.” Saguru sat on the bedside chair. “You’re grounded until you’re twenty though.”

Takumi nodded. “Sounds like Kaa-san.” He sighed. “So much for lacrosse.”

“You made the choice, kiddo.” Kuroba side hugged him one last time before letting go.

“I know.” Takumi’s eyes were red rimmed and his face splotched from tears and spent anger. There wasn’t much anger left in him now, just the same exhaustion Saguru saw in Aoko. “I should apologize to the Kudos, shouldn’t I...”

“That’d be a good place to start,” Kuroba said with a parody of his usual light tone.

Takumi nodded. “Sorry for breaking into your apartment earlier today, Hakuba-sensei,” Takumi muttered as he moved for the door.

“I’m used to it,” Saguru said. “I still stand that you are welcome any time.”

Takumi paused in the doorway, then nodded before hurrying away. As soon as he was out of the room, Kuroba’s small smile slid off his face. He looked twice as tired as Aoko and Takumi both, made worse by the long stretches of pink and scabbed skin along his right side.

“Are things going to be okay?” Saguru asked. He caught Kuroba’s good hand.

Kuroba squeezed back. “I hope so. He’s still angry and he has every right to be. I don’t know if he’s going to trust me again.”

“He loves you,” Saguru said. _Just like Aoko_ hung between them, unspoken and unacknowledged. “You’ll just have to work to prove he still can.”

“Yeah.” Kuroba closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them again, he was focused and all his stress pushed to the side. “So how weird was it to wake up to Takumi breaking into your apartment?”

“I thought he was you until I woke up enough to remember where and when I was.”

Kuroba laughed softly. “I didn’t think he had it in him to do that.”

“He’s your son as much as he is Aoko’s.”

“Yeah.” Kuroba slid his hand free of Saguru’s. “So, you think Aoko’s going to come back here and yell at me?”

“There’s always that possibility, but I think she really wants to go home and sleep more than she wants to yell at the moment.”

“That’s a first.”

“Hm.” Saguru brought Kuroba his breakfast tray. “Have some pancakes. Hanae chose the chocolate in them apparently.”

“Good taste,” Kuroba said.

***

It was a bit surreal to see Takumi and Aoko sitting at the same table as Ran and Kudo and their children, all peaceably eating color-splotched chocolate pancakes. Takumi was seated between Aoko and Midori, and Midori seemed to have forgotten to be nervous about him as she chattered on about some of the shaped pancakes Kudo made for them in the past. Her and Hanae’s pancakes looked vaguely like five-petal flower shaped blobs today with more chocolate in them than the rest of the pancakes on the table. Kudo and Ran both gave Saguru a smile when he sat at the last open spot.

“Everything okay?” Ran asked.

“All is well,” Saguru said. “Kid passes on his compliments for the pancakes.”

Aoko snorted. “He’s such a chocolate addict.” She had a single pancake on her plate, picking at it slowly. Saguru knew for a fact that Aoko also loved chocolate, but it seemed she didn’t have a taste for it at the moment. “Are we going to ignore the elephant in the room or...?”

“What elephant?” Midori asked.

“It’s an idiom,” Kudo explained. “Meaning the obvious topic no one wants to acknowledge.”

“What does that have to do with elephants?”

“Elephants are hard to ignore.” Kudo sipped his coffee and raised an eyebrow. “It’s also hard to ignore who Kid is when his ex-wife and son are at our breakfast table.”

Midori muttered something that sounded a lot like “idioms are stupid” into her pancakes as Kudo and Aoko locked eyes.

It was Takumi who broke the staring contest with an irritated huff. “I don’t think they’re going to go arresting him after keeping him in the guest bedroom for several weeks,” he said. “Might as well put all the secrets out in the open.” Aoko’s lips became a white line of disapproval, but she didn’t stop Takumi when he gave a sarcastic wave of a hand and introduced himself. “Hey, I’m Kuroba Takumi, and that’s Kuroba-nee-Nakamori Aoko, and you’re housing Kuroba Kaito. We’re all one little messy family. Nice to formally meet you all under a slightly less messed up scenario than last time.”

“Kuroba....Kuroba... As in Kuroba Toichi?” Kudo asked.

“Yup. One time great magician, original Kaitou Kid, father of Kuroba Kaito, current Kid.” Takumi stabbed a bite of pancake.

“Huh.” Kudo took another sip of coffee. “I think I met him once... He taught my mom disguise skills.”

“Small world.”

It somehow wasn’t surprising in the least that Kudo would have connections to the original Kid in addition to Kuroba.

“He also taught another woman who was with the crime organization I took down. Never did find out what happened to Vermouth. You’d know her better as Sharon Vineyard. Or Chris Vineyard. They were both the same person really.”

Saguru blinked and glanced at Aoko. She looked equally caught off guard. “Kaito had stories about an Aunt Chris, but they were mostly all from before his dad died.”

“Well isn’t that interesting,” Kudo said with a pensive look. It was a look Saguru had come to associate with Kudo piecing together facts.

“Does this hint that Kid might have at one point cooperated,” Saguru wondered aloud, “or more indicate that they had someone watching him from early in his career?”

“I wonder,” Kudo said. “There’s still no proof that the group I dealt with is the same one Kid’s been fighting.” He frowned at nothing for a moment before visibly pushing the thoughts aside. “At any rate, that’s not something we’re going to solve over breakfast.”

No, Saguru thought, that would be what Kudo likely tried to do the moment he could lock himself in his study again and put the full force of his brain into the question. It was curious though that this Vineyard woman had had connections to Kid and Kudo’s organization and, if Saguru was remembering his celebrities correctly, a successful career as a movie star. Even more curious that a woman would pretend to be her own daughter. Sharon Vineyard should be almost old enough to be Saguru’s grandmother by now, but Chris was supposed to be younger that Saguru’s mother. Very odd indeed when Kuroba was dealing with a group obsessed with immortality—presumably of the eternal youth and vitality sort.

Either there was something not adding up, or things were more complex than Saguru had information for.

Aoko shoved her pancake around her plate a bit more. “I guess this means we can work together,” she said.

“I’m sure pooling resources will go quicker,” Kudo agreed. “Is this going to make things more complicated in keeping work out of it though?”

Aoko grimaced. “No more than it ever has I guess. I ...understand why Hakuba didn’t tell me upfront where Bakaito was. I would have reacted stupidly and probably have stormed your house. It might not even be good to be here now since I know I get followed sometimes.” There were serious looks around the table, Takumi gripping his fork too tight and shoulders up by his ears. Even Midori and Hanae were quiet, tuned into the tension of the room. “But I haven’t gone after Kid outside of heists, and I’m not going to arrest Kaito while he’s on bedrest and can’t escape if he had to. I’m not that angry at him.”

She sighed. “About work though...” She glanced at the children at the table. Takumi met her eyes with a defiant stare, daring her to try and shoo him off. Ran stood up smoothly and tapped her daughters on the shoulders.

“I think Kid-san might like to see what you drew him last night. Maybe we could finish up breakfast giving him some company?” Ran said with a smile.

Midori jumped up immediately. Hanae glanced at the other adults. She at least had been paying attention and didn’t look like she wanted to get cut out of the conversation. It was clear that she wasn’t going to be allowed to hear anything more about the topic of Kid or what Aoko’s news was, so she let her mother bustle her out the door.

Kudo watched them go with a grateful smile. It turned all business when he looked back Aoko’s way. “Yes?”

Aoko gave Takumi a pointed stare.

Before Takumi could be backed into a corner, Saguru cut in. “I don’t suppose it would hurt for him to hear that we’re actually making progress in keeping Kuroba safe?”

Aoko slumped in her chair. “Fine. Fine, but for fuck’s sake, he’s not doing any investigating.”

“Of course not,” Saguru said diplomatically. He and Kudo had both been detectives by Takumi’s age, but they weren’t going to interfere with Aoko’s home rules. “You were saying about work?”

“There was another lead,” Aoko said bluntly. “Not so much with Ichiyose’s murder so much as around the buildings we believe the sniper was in. It’s pretty clear they’re trying to find leads on Kid, or what happened to the gem. I think they know something’s up because even injured, Kid never leaves a gem this long before returning it, and he has plenty of ways of returning things even if he’s too hurt to do it in person.”

“It would be the perfect time for a trap,” Saguru said. He could see it easily enough; any sighting of Kid or hint of the gem would draw someone at the moment. But it could easily be a trap _for_ Kid as well. Which meant that they would have to do better, out think them if they could. “If we could catch someone and observe who acts in making things disappear—catch _those_ people in the act...”

“Then we could use it as a catalyst for the rest of it,” Kudo continued, “using the momentum from that to explore police corruption and reveal that coverups have been happening for decades.”

There was silence around the table for a moment, a hopeful, anticipatory sort of silence as they all saw the possibility of an end in sight.

“You need a Kid for the trap,” Takumi said into the silence. “Tou-san isn’t going to be able to be Kid.”

“The wonderful thing about Kid,” Kudo said, “is that no one knows what he looks like and he’s known for taking on other faces.”

“Yeah, but he only has the one when he’s in uniform. They’re going to be on the watch for copycats.”

“It isn’t terribly hard to pull off his persona,” Saguru said. “Kudo or I could pull it off easily.”

“Yeah, but you can’t run if you had to, and Kudo’s the one with half the police connections that he’ll probably need to be directing.” Takumi glanced at his mother. “With Kaa-san of course.” He straightened his shoulders. “You’d still need a Kid, and who better than a Kuroba to do it?”

“Absolutely not,” Aoko and Saguru said at the same time. “There is no way in hell you’re putting yourself in line of fire,” Aoko continued. She gripped the edge of the table so hard her knuckles were white. “I let you stay in the damn room, but you’re not having any part of this.”

“Kaa-san,” Takumi said setting his jaw in the stubborn surety of a Nakamori knowing they were right, “they have to suspect who Tou-san is. If it’s me, they’d think he’s dead. That I’m the next Kid and that I’m no threat. They’d be letting their guard down.”

“The point would be to have them think that Kid is perfectly fine,” Kudo said, “not that he has a successor.”

“But they know he’s not fine,” Takumi said. “They saw him go down and even if you cleaned up the scene, there’d still be traces of blood there to show he was injured. They’re not going to believe any able bodied person is Kid, so why not let them think it’s his successor?”

“Which does not have to be you,” Saguru pointed out. “Again, Kid could be anyone.”

“But they knew Kid was Toichi, and they must know by now that Kid is Tou-san, so they’re going to be watching me anyway because of that. They’d _believe_ I’d try to be Kid to avenge Tou-san because that’s exactly what he did for his dad. It should be me.”

“Wow,” Kuroba’s voice said from the doorway, falsely light and noticeable tense. “No. Good use of argument, nice presentation of your points, still no.” Kuroba leaned against the wall, a bit pale as he held his used dishes in one hand. His other arm was out of its sling—no doubt Haibara would give him hell for that later—and being used as a counterbalance whenever he didn’t move quite how he intended.

“Kaito,” Aoko said, locking onto him. She took in the raw pink skin on his face, disappearing down his shirt collar and the red skin of his bad hand, the brace on his leg and the myriad of healing bruises painting his skin greenish purple. He didn’t have a mask on for once, face as in the open as his given name.

“Aoko,” Kuroba said, flashing a false grin in her direction. “I expected more yelling to herald your arrival.”

“I see your shit sense of humor survived intact,” Aoko shot back.

“Where are Ran and the girls?” Kudo asked.

“In the study,” Kuroba said in the same airy tone. “I said I liked the chocolate pancakes, they asked if I liked anything else. I said I liked doves and missed mine so the girls decided to draw me ‘the best dove ever.’” It was disconcerting to hear Midori’s voice come from Kid’s mouth, even more disconcerting to be close enough to see how Kuroba’s throat shifted to produce that high of a voice. “I pretended to need the toilet.”

“You need to stop pushing yourself like this,” Saguru sighed. He pulled out a free chair. “Sit before you hurt yourself.”

Kuroba flashed him a much more sincere smile and took the seat. “Now that that’s established,” he turned on Takumi, “there is no way in hell you’re going to be Kid. That’s over my literally dead body, which so help me I’d find a way to resurrect just to tell you hell no all over again.”

“You were Kid around my age!” Takumi sputtered. “You have no room to talk!”

“I was sixteen,” Kuroba said in a clipped, eerily upbeat voice, “when I first had a gun pointed at me. Sixteen the first time I was shot. By the time I was seventeen, I’d been shot at over two dozen times with the scars to prove it. I had criminals shoot at me, police shoot at me, Kudo and Nakamori both shot at me at least once that first year. Sixteen. That was almost two decades ago and I lost count of how many near misses and glancing hits I’ve had since then. You are fourteen. You are not going to end up like me.”

It almost pressures Takumi into silence, but Takumi was just as stubborn as Kuroba and Aoko both at his core. “I wouldn’t be alone. I’d have half the Tokyo police working to help.”

“Tokyo police supposedly cleared the museum before the last heist,” Kuroba said pointedly. 

Aoko twitched, probably feeling called out by that. “That was a stupid setup with too many uncoordinated groups and you know it,” she muttered.

“And what exactly are you all trying to pull off now?” Kuroba said, words digging deep into the vulnerabilities of their plans.

“A hell of a lot more than what you’ve been trying,” Aoko shot back, voice rising.

Kuroba gave her a smile that was chilling enough to stop her rant before it even started. “Can we not. Just for today. Feel free to go back to cursing me out tomorrow, but there’s been enough yelling in this house today already.”

Takumi looked between them like he was waiting for everything to explode.

“We all want the same thing,” Kudo said diplomatically. “We want to take out this organization and all its parts. That’s why we’re here and that’s what we’re going to do, one way or another.” He met the eyes of everyone at the table. “If we play bait, I’ll be Kid. Nakamori-keibu is more than capable of wrangling the police and I can have a communicator to keep in touch the entire time to change plans on the fly.”

Kuroba frowned at Kudo. “You have a family,” he said quietly. “And this will be painting a target on you.”

Kudo shrugged. “I know. That’s why we have to do this right.”  Kudo added, “And you have a family too, so you can’t keep taking chances waiting for your luck to run out.”

Kuroba deflated from his defensive posture. “I know.” He leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling for a moment. “How long would it take to put everything into motion?”

Saguru looked at Kudo. He’d told him about Kuroba Chikage’s files and plans. They’d stepped up their plans in addition. Kudo’s connections in the US had picked up the trail of quite a few tendrils of the group, putting forth the manpower that they were lacking here. Kudo’s police connections in Japan had been digging into discrepancies as carefully as they could for several weeks, and Saguru had heard from Millard once, informing him that his hunch had been correct and that Millard had found a fresh trail. Even with all of that... And yet they couldn’t leave things too long or they lost the opportunity for the trap here and now.

“Another week and a half,” Saguru said, speaking for them both. “It’s not going to be as complete as we’d want, but any longer and we might miss the chance to catch an organization member.”

“It’s enough to jumpstart the whole investigation openly,” Kudo added. “How long it will take to conclude...” He shrugged. “It took a couple of years to go through everyone back when I took out the Black Org. But it only took a few months for it to be safe enough to return to living in the open, and that’s about the most we can hope for.”

Kuroba nodded, like it was nothing more or less than he’d expected. “Fine. I can work with that.” He drummed fingers along the edge of the table. “Hakuba, I need a favor.”

“Yes?”

“I need you to talk to someone who’s been helping me. With everything that’s happened this month, it’s something that can’t really be put off. And when you make your move, we’re going to need a bit more insurance.”

Insurance how? Kuroba looked at Aoko at his elbow and past her at Takumi, bit his lip. Takumi stared back, still stubborn and Saguru knew that the argument about Takumi taking a part in this would continue even though none of them would back down on the necessity of Takumi staying out of it. Kuroba looked back at Saguru and Saguru reached out to put a supportive hand on his shoulder. Whoever it was, Kuroba didn’t want to contact them.

“I need you to talk to Koizumi,” Kuroba said finally. “She can help with the details.”

“Koizumi-san?” Saguru said as Aoko said, “Akako-chan?”

“You kept in touch with Koizumi?” Saguru asked. “I was under the assumption you disliked each other.”

Kuroba grimaced. “Mm, more she kept in touch with me. We came to an agreement of sorts after high school.” From the expression on Aoko’s face, there was a high likelihood that she’d pull that story out of Kuroba before the day was out whether he wanted to talk about it or not.

Saguru hurried to keep them on topic. “And what sort of help could Koizumi-san possibly be?”

Kuroba snorted. “Ah, Hakuba. It’s Koizumi. She placed herself right in the middle of a bunch of powerful people with them at her beck and call. Can you really expect anything different?” So...she’d be useful due to her connections? Kuroba hadn’t actually answered Saguru’s question, but there was something in Kuroba’s eyes that told him not to press at the moment.

“...and what is this aid going to cost?” Saguru asked.

Kuroba waved a hand. “...We’ve made deals in the past. She knows where to find me to get the payment after. It’s nothing I can’t afford, so don’t worry about the details. She’ll help you if you come to her saying ‘Kuroba would like to make another exchange.’ She’ll take care of the details.”

That also wasn’t an answer. Saguru had a sinking feeling about all of this. “Alright. Tell me where to go and I’ll talk to her.”

“Thanks, Hakuba.” Kuroba’s grin wasn’t the least bit reassuring.

“Deals with witches was it?” Kudo said out of the blue, sounding like he was quoting something.

Kuroba waved his hand. “Or something like that.”

Aoko frowned. “It’s rude to call Akako-chan a witch, Bakaito.”

“She calls herself that and worse, Aoko.”

“Still.”

Kuroba rolled his eyes and pulled out a piece of paper and pencil from...somewhere. How he was managing sleight of hand when he was still recovering was beyond Saguru. His borrowed yukata only left so many places to hide objects too. “Here’s her address,” Kuroba said, jotting it down left-handed. “Don’t worry about calling ahead. She’ll be expecting you.”

“...I’m not sure when I’m going yet.”

“Trust me. She’ll be expecting you.”

The paper was warm from Kuroba’s body heat. Saguru curled his fingers around it on automatic, brushing against Kuroba’s hand in the process. Saguru didn’t have many significant memories of Koizumi Akako, but the ones he did have hardly gave him the best impression. She had been a young woman surrounded by admirers and beautiful enough to catch even Saguru’s attention despite his disinterest in the female form. She had been at once both enchanting and unsettling, all for reasons he couldn’t put a cause to. She’d always fixated on Kuroba too, and that was possibly even more a cause for concern...

Kuroba turned back to the table, crossing his arms with an air of authority. “Now,” he said, “we plan.”

For the moment, Saguru put the problem of Koizumi Akako aside.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just realized that last week marked 6 months of posting this story. Thanks for all the lovely comments in the last 6 months and following along ^_^

It had been almost fifteen years since Saguru had last seen Koizumi Akako; she appeared to have barely aged in that time.  When Saguru was ushered into a study room, the Koizumi that awaited him had a bit sharper features and a bit curvier a figure, but her lips had the same knowing smile and she held herself with the same grace and confidence that had caught Saguru’s attention in high school. She wore a dress, something undoubtedly high end, with a scandalously low neck line, and just enough gold jewelry to skirt along the edge of gaudy. Saguru could have been anywhere and his eyes would have been drawn to her; there had always been something about Koizumi that could captivate a man, even a man like Saguru who didn’t have any interest in women physically.

Koizumi stood to greet him, her smile and once over too familiar for people who hadn’t seen each other in years. “Hakuba. I’d say I was surprised, but I could hardly miss that you’re back in Japan. I’m not surprised at all that you’ve become caught up in Kid’s mess again. Or should I say Kuroba?”

Straight to the point, then. Saguru gripped his cane, feeling off balance and out of his depth. “You know? About Kuroba?”

Koizumi’s smile had an edge of teeth. “I’ve always known. You’re not the only one who’s been covering for him over the years. Nightmare, Chat Noir?” she said, eyes glinting dangerously. One hand cupped Saguru’s elbow, guiding him toward one of the study’s oversized leather chairs. He sat on automatic.

Perhaps it wasn’t so strange for Koizumi to know. Not if she was Kuroba’s informant. As she returned to the chair across from him, Saguru’s mind played out bits of the past. Calling Kuroba from Paris, hiding Kid’s glove during the Nightmare incident. But when would Koizumi have covered for him? “...The time with the statue when Kuroba was cuffed to me,” Saguru said slowly. “Kid screamed like a girl.”

Koizumi laughed. “You always were bright.” She crossed her legs and propped her hands on her knees, leaning forward like it was a business meeting she was looking forward to. In a way, it was exactly that. “What does Kuroba need from me this time?”

Right, he was here for Kuroba. Saguru frowned. “He said something about making a new deal and that you would take care of the details. He also said he’d pay the cost, but I don’t think he’s capable of paying back much of anything right now.” For all that Kuroba was recovering and pushing limits remarkably fast, there was a certainty in him that Kuroba was running out of his trademark good luck and he didn’t have much to work with at the moment. He would be doing no favors anytime soon or trading in whatever social capital Koizumi must be working with.

Koizumi looked smugger. She gave Saguru a once over that had his face burning. There was something a bit too intense at being her sole focus, something that felt unsettlingly like attraction even though he knew it couldn’t be. “Why Hakuba, are you offering to pay in his stead? How noble.”

He snapped attention back to Koizumi’s eyes belatedly aware that his focus had been drifting. She was too amused. Entirely too calm and in control. Focus, Saguru reminded himself. Kuroba needed something from her, and that something would help Kuroba finally be free from the shadows looming over him. Saguru wet his lips. “I am offering. I get the feeling that Kuroba has been racking up too many debts lately.”

“Hmm. You’re not wrong. I’ll help you.”

“And what will it cost me?”

“You should really ask that before you make a bargain, detective.” She leaned back and some of that intensity dimmed. Whatever had been clouding his mind cleared some too, and Saguru was struck with the feeling that he was sitting across from someone very dangerous. Someone he should have asked more questions of before making a bargain, undoubtedly.

“...what did it cost Kuroba?”

Koizumi’s grin got wider and she...held out a photo from the desk? Saguru took it from her and it took him a moment to process it. Koizumi was in the picture, flanked by two identical girls who could only be her daughters. The way they held themselves, the reddish tint to their hair, their smiles eerily similar to Koizumi’s own... But their hair was messier than Koizumi’s straight hair, a bit of curl and cowlicks to it, and their eyes were closer to violet than the reddish brown of Koizumi’s. Then there was their facial structure... He passed the picture back.

“You and Kuroba...?” Saguru asked, trying and failing to keep his tone neutral.

“Don’t look so scandalized.” Koizumi returned the picture to her desk. “I needed a child and he was willing to give me one. I lucked out with two.” She gave a mock sigh. “I sadly couldn’t get him to agree to his body in the bargain, but we both got what we needed out of the arrangement.”

Oh thank goodness. He felt a little better knowing Kuroba hadn’t actually sold Koizumi his body in whatever their last bargain had been. Though that still didn’t explain why Koizumi wanted _that_ from Kuroba or why Kuroba would be willing to pay such a price. To be honest, it didn’t explain anything really and he hated feeling like he was in the dark. Koizumi wanted a child, but didn’t want to be tied down, but she’d wanted Kuroba to be the father because of her high school obsession? And Kuroba agreed because he needed her connections? For Kuroba who valued family and paternal ties, it didn’t seem like the sort of bargain he’d ever have agreed to. “What will it cost me for your assistance?” Saguru asked again.

Koizumi’s grin settled into something with less teeth if no less smugness. She waved a hand. “Nothing tangible. The costs will even out on their own, and you’ll see soon enough.”

There was being vague and then there was deflecting, and he’d had too much of it from both Kuroba and Koizumi. “Koizumi-san, what are we exchanging?”

“Things you wouldn’t believe in if I told you, Hakuba-kun.” Her smile dimmed. For the first time, she looked serious, straightening and uncrossing her legs. “Don’t worry, Kuroba will live through this. I could hardly lose him now after investing so many years into his wellbeing.”

 _‘Investing_ ,’ she said, like Kuroba was stock in a trade market. Like she was still getting something out of this bargain besides the children she’d shown him. Things Saguru wouldn’t believe in, hmm? Saguru closed his eyes for a moment. Kuroba had called her a witch before. In high school and recently, and it had never been something she’d refuted. Magic wasn’t possible and witches didn’t exist, but if they did... Well, Saguru could believe she’d be one. There was something unnatural about her and there always had been. “How did you help him before?” he asked.

“I removed the connection between ‘Kid’ and ‘Kuroba’ so to speak,” Koizumi said, still serious. “Of course that sort of thing is a stop gap. It doesn’t work if you know for sure.”

He wanted to ask for clarification, but he had the feeling he wouldn’t like any response he got. “And is that what you’re doing now?”

“A bit late for that,” she said. “I can still keep his family out of it, but it would take something big to cut off ‘Kuroba’ from ‘Kid’ again.” Koizumi held out a hand imperiously. “Your hand.”

Saguru gave her hand the same sort of look he’d give a possibly poisonous snake, but he put his hand in hers.

“Hmm.” Koizumi turned it over, looking at his palm for a moment. The hair on the back of Saguru’s neck stood up and he resisted the urge to yank his hand free and wipe it off on his shirt. Out of seemingly nowhere, she jabbed a pin into his thumb.

“Ow! What the bleeding hell, Koizumi?!”

Her grip was strong enough that he couldn’t pull his hand back. Instead, he could only stare as blood oozed up from the stab wound. Koizumi pulled a slip of cream colored paper from her pocket and collected the blood on it in a smear before letting him go. Saguru curled his hand against his chest. He certainly wouldn’t be offering it to her again in the future.

“Did you get what you needed?” he asked, letting his displeasure bleed into his tone.

Koizumi hummed again, folded the paper in half, and slid it back into her pocket. “Yes, I think that will do. You’ll be able to pay for Kuroba’s request, and you probably won’t even notice the difference at first once I take my payment.”

“You still haven’t said what that payment is or what it’s paying for.”

“Think of it this way. Kuroba gave me an heir, a future, and the lack of direct familial bond with my daughters in payment in addition to a few other things over the years. He got vitality, luck, and a better hidden identity in return.” Koizumi tapped a crimson painted fingernail against her lips. “I could take luck from you, memory, health, emotion—but you’re doing this for Kuroba, and I don’t want to disadvantage what you’re doing. So I’m taking your invisibility and with it your reputation.” She tilted her head. “You won’t be able to go back to the quiet life you’ve had in Japan so far. But I think you won’t want to much longer anyway. You are a detective after all. You were outed by a reporter, and that is never going to leave public eye now. It will be part of how the public defines you for the rest of your life.”

“It would have anyway.”

Koizumi shrugged. “It might have, it might not have. You paid with the possibility of that happening vanishing.”

Saguru opened his mouth, closed it. Every line of Koizumi’s face said she believed what she was saying. That Kuroba sent him here meant he believed it as well. They were speaking of impossibilities and intangibilities, but Saguru supposed it didn’t matter if these things were real or not. If they were, then Koizumi might very well boost their chances of success. If not, then what did Saguru lose? A few drops of blood and a bit of time, but gained peace of mind for Kuroba’s superstitious side. He’d pay more than blood for Kuroba’s peace of mind. “Fine. Are we done here?”

Koizumi snorted. She stood and walked to a filing cabinet to pull out a thick file. “Give this to Kuroba or use it yourself. It’s the most recent news I’ve gathered.”

Saguru stood to take it, careful to keep out of grabbing range. He didn’t quite trust her not to stab him with another pin. He glanced at the contents and found it full of pictures and names with brief information next to each one. Not enough to build a full case on unlike Kuroba’s files, but enough to start an investigation. He recognized a few faces from the heist at the museum.

“They’re recruiting more heavily,” Koizumi said. “They’re getting desperate and it’s making them sloppy.”

“What do any of these people have to gain joining them?” he murmured.

“Promise of power?” Koizumi shrugged. “I think it’s more likely they get people by blackmailing though. I’m sure there are plenty of people on the police force trying to escape something in their past. Or have something questionable in their habits. Or their family.” She smirked. “Really, it’s a wonder they never got Aoko-chan.”

“She’d never agree.”

“No,” Koizumi said, “she wouldn’t. It would have been funny to see them try though.”

Clearly Koizumi’s sense of humor had little in common with Saguru’s own. Saguru tucked the file under his arm. “Thank you for your assistance, Koizumi-san.”

“So formal.” Koizumi quirked an eyebrow at him. “You could stay longer. Catch up.”

Was there something suggestive in how she said that or was it all in Saguru’s head? Her body language wasn’t implicitly flirtatious, but then Koizumi didn’t need to be to make something appear suggestive. He shook his head, backing subtly for the door. He grabbed his cane as soon as it was in reach. “No thank you, I am sure we are both very busy people, Koizumi-san.”

“Of course, Hakuba.” She laughed at him silently, eyes glittering. “You will have to visit again sometime, perhaps with Kuroba. You could meet my daughters.”

Any daughter of Koizumi was sure to be formidable. Add Kuroba’s chaotic bloodline into the mix... He could perhaps see why Koizumi would want Kuroba’s genetics. The children were probably terrifying. “Another time.”

Her teeth glinted white, a real smile instead of the predatory ones she kept sending his way. Good to know his discomfort amused her. “Best of luck with your task, Hakuba,” Koizumi said, resettling into the chair she’d been in when Saguru got there. “Happy hunting.”

Saguru took the dismissal, saying something in return that he hoped had at least sounded polite. The butler that had shown him into the room was waiting to escort him out. Saguru was more than happy to leave Koizumi and her mansion behind him.

***

“In the future,” Saguru said, “you deal with Koizumi-san.”

Kuroba paused where he was carefully stretching his arms in simple exercises. He was already working to regain his mobility in them at an almost frightening rate of healing. “I take it your conversation went that badly?”

Saguru sunk into the bedside chair, shivering at the remembered feeling of Koizumi’s eyes on him. “Oh, the discussion went well. I have information and a promise that the bargain will go through, whatever that entails.” He pursed his lips. He never had manage to get all of the details. Koizumi had likely been extra unnerving in order to keep him as in the dark as possible. “However, Koizumi-san is even more unsettling than she was in high school, and I had the distinct impression that I would be toyed with like a cat torments a mouse if I let my guard down for a moment.”

“Aah, Akako-hime is like that,” Kuroba said, relaxing. “She doesn’t have any reason to torment you though.”

“How reassuring.”

Kuroba snorted. He made a slow rotation of his shoulder, only a mild grimace on his face as it pulled on muscles abused by his fall and his shoulder’s dislocation. “No worries. You shouldn’t have to see her again. I only ever visit when I have to.”

“Even though you’re the father of her daughters?” Saguru asked. He took a small satisfaction in how Kuroba flinched.

“Should have guessed she’d bring that up,” he muttered. He moved on to flexing his hands. “Yeah, the twins. I’m more of a sperm donor than anything. Akako-chan didn’t want me to be much more than that, though I’m technically their next of kin if anything happened to her and I send them birthday and new year’s gifts.” He sighed. “To be honest, the few times we’ve met they’ve been sort of Akako clones, and eeeh. I’m sure they have their own personalities under what she’s taught them, but it’s pretty unnerving. They send a letter every now and again so I know a bit about their life, and that’s all the more interest they seem to have of me.”

“That must be hard.”

“I’ve had time to get used to it.” There wasn’t any regret that Saguru could see in Kuroba’s posture or tone. He truly believed it to be an equal exchange and a worthwhile one. Hmm.

Saguru leaned back in the chair and watched Kuroba test his bruised ribs by rotating his torso. There was a definite grimace on his face. “I imagine Aoko would be upset if she knew.”

Kuroba blanched. “Hell, I’m not ever telling her if I can help it. I don’t care if it was after we were divorced, she’d still skin me for it.”

“And Takumi-kun would join her no doubt.”

Kuroba winced and stopped stretching. “Yeah...yeah...that. Wouldn’t go over well after all the other secrets.”

“What’s done is done though. Either they will learn one day or they won’t.” Saguru pulled out the file Koizumi had given him and tossed it on Kuroba’s lap.

Kuroba opened it gingerly. “Oh. Wow, she works fast. These would be the officers complicit with the bombing at the last heist. And the ones we’d want to watch when we bait the trap.”

“Exactly.”

“Then you’re really going to do it soon.” Kuroba stared down at the folder in his hands like he was seeing through it and looking at something he desperately wanted to be real. “Trigger the trap.”

“Yes.” Kuroba looked so far away that Saguru had to reach out. His fingers brushed scar-marred skin on Kuroba’s arm. Kuroba turned his unseeing eyes in Saguru’s direction, taking a moment to focus. “We’ll catch them, Kuroba.” Hot, angry, vicious certainty filled him. One way or another, Saguru would make that statement true.

“It doesn’t feel possible,” Kuroba said. He looked at Saguru’s hand on his arm like it was a particularly complex puzzle. “I’m always running by the skin of my teeth and they’ve always been in the shadows, waiting to catch my heels. I’ve been Kid longer than I’ve not been Kid.”

“I know.” Saguru’s thumb brushed along Kuroba’s arm, soothing, and he wanted to—to curl around Kuroba, protect him, hold him close and keep the doubts at bay. Kuroba was only a friend, though, and this was Japan. He was already abnormally touchy with Kuroba as it was. “If I have any power in building this future, I’ll make it so that that isn’t the case forever.”

“Retire?” Kuroba said, a ghost of a smile on his face. “A phantom thief never retires.”

“No, they become urban legends for decades to come.” Saguru followed the scars up to the fresher ones on Kuroba’s face, no longer painful, but still pink and raw looking. Kuroba didn’t pull away, looked back at him like there was nothing else in the world at this moment. Like Saguru’s words had weight to them. “You’ll get that future, Kuroba.”

“And I suppose you’ll still be teaching in that future, the two of us becoming old men with too many secrets.”

“Maybe.” Saguru should pull his hand away. He didn’t. “I might stick around to see you gain a few gray hairs.”

“Only a few?” Kuroba sounded teasing, but his eyes were so serious, asking a question Saguru wasn’t sure of let alone how to answer it.

“I’m sure you’d love to see me go bald. Both my grandfathers kept their hair though; it would be a long wait.” Saguru was only half aware of what he was saying. He just wanted to wipe that lingering uncertainty and worry from Kuroba’s face, like he wished his touch could wipe away the scars the years had left.

“If you plan to stay that long,” Kuroba said.

Did he plan to? He had no plans beyond removing the threat to Kuroba’s life. No plans beyond this teaching year. If Kuroba wanted him here, he could stay. If Kuroba wanted him, there was very little that could keep him away. “I...”

They both jumped as Saguru’s phone rang, the volume set on loud from earlier that day when Saguru had been worried he’d miss a phone call. Kuroba’s face left his fingertips as Kuroba finally pulled away. The words on Saguru’s tongue died. He wanted to call the moment back and promise he’d stay as long as Kuroba kept wanting him to be there, but there were too many important things going on to ignore a phone call.

It was Millard. “Hello?” As he answered, Kuroba repositioned himself on his bed, settling back to eavesdrop shamelessly. That was fine; anything Millard had to say was bound to be connected to Kuroba’s case anyway.

 _“Saguru, good, you have time to talk?”_ Millard was rushed, distracted sounding. Saguru could hear the sound of rain hitting metal—the roof of a car?

“Yes. You have news?”

 _“Found some suspicious edits and missing casefiles for some cases. All ones that involved places on your list. Asked around a bit too, careful-like though. I’m starting to get your old paranoia,”_ he said with what was supposed to be a laugh, but too strained to really be one. It was both from stress, and due to fact that the paranoia in question hadn’t appeared until Saguru had been investigating Mel’s death. He hadn’t been in a good place then. _“You were right about things not adding up. Hans Yemen has a few cases where conclusive evidence was never found attached with those companies, and the missing bullet casings from Mel’s case... Well, might not have been missing if ya get my drift. I did some digging and found a digital file sent by one of the officers that did the initial write up and it didn’t match the one on file.”_

Saguru let out a slow breath. “I see.” He wouldn’t get his hopes up, couldn’t dare hope that they’d get some sort of justice for Mel because if he was let down again this time, he wasn’t sure what he’d feel. Kuroba’s eyes were too knowing on him. “That’s something tangible at least. Not enough to make a case of in itself, but...”

 _“Something,”_ Millard agreed. “ _Jones and McLuhan are in with me. Jones works in cataloging so she’s found a bit. It’s keeping this all quiet that’s been hard. You can’t root around in your own yard long before your neighbor notices, y’know?”_ He sighed and there was the hazy sound of rain for a long moment. “ _I’ll be upfront. Don’t know if we’ll get the person that shot Mel, but I think we can at least get the people who covered it up and maybe even the people who hired the one who shot him. This isn’t going to make us any friends here, but it’s the right thing and I won’t let this go until I’ve seen it through._ ”

Saguru had a vivid recollection of two years ago, Mel and Millard drunkenly arguing over reality television in the London apartment living room, trying to get Saguru to commit to one of their sides despite his not having any interest in reality television. Millard gave a speech at Mel’s funeral, but Saguru had barely heard it. There was a heavy mix of the now-familiar pain of loss mixed in with grateful fondness. Why had it been so easy to forget that others hurt too? “Thank you, Millard. I know you will.”

 _“Right,”_ Millard said, gruffer, pushing away the sentimentality from a moment ago. _“McLuhan wanted me to pass along that you’re invited to her usual Christmas party still, and that you’re to call sometime.”_

“And those are the words she used? There isn’t enough profanity.”

 _“Well, she said you’re a right prat for cutting us out and if your head’s out of your ass now, you’re welcome to come back anytime,”_ Millard said.

Saguru snorted. That she’d cared to offer after some of the things he’d said... “Still not enough profanity,” Saguru said, “and I am not likely to be on that side of the world for the holidays, but pass along my thanks for the offer.”

“ _Can do. Best of luck on your end.”_

“Same to you.”

Millard disconnected the call. Saguru ignored the prickling of his eyes. If he pretended, maybe it would stop.

“Sounds like good friends,” Kuroba commented.

Saguru blinked hard to clear his eyes. Kuroba hadn’t moved, though he was staring with more intensity than he had at the start of the call. “I suppose so. I hadn’t thought I still had the right to call them that.”

“That’s friends though,” Kuroba said. “They don’t let you shove them away easily.”

And yet who did Kuroba have? His coworkers? In the strangest of roundabout ways, Aoko and Kudo? Koizumi? He had Saguru now though. And Saguru didn’t just have Kuroba anymore. “We don’t,” Saguru agreed. “So don’t think you’ll be rid of me anytime soon.” It was segue enough to continue their unfinished conversation. “I don’t plan to go anywhere, Kuroba.”

“Not even to London for Christmas?”

“While McLuhan’s Christmas parties are notorious for their revelry, I think I’d rather stay here.” Saguru offered a smile. “I’ll go to London at some point, but I don’t think I will stay any longer than I need to in settling things I left undone.”

“I thought you weren’t sure what you had planned in the future.”

“I was.” Saguru placed a hand close to Kuroba’s own; close enough to imply intimacy, but not so close that it crossed that fine line he was skirting around so often lately. “I’m still not certain how long I will stay teaching or what path I’ll take, but I think it will remain in Japan from here on out.”

“You know,” Kuroba said his own hand just a bit too far from Saguru’s to feel its warmth, “I almost thought that this would scare you away.” He gestured with his left hand to the scars and his leg brace.

“It would have,” Saguru said honestly, “except you lived.”

***

There were not enough hours in the day. Since the trap plan had been solidified, Saguru had barely had a chance to rest between seeing Koizumi, contacting officers Kudo and Aoko trusted—and who were not on any of Kuroba’s lists—and putting Kuroba’s evidence into an order that would be more easily accessed for any possible eventuality to come out of this. He was seeing names and faces of individuals he had never met in his sleep, and the closer it came to time, the more often these dreams were interspersed with memories and modifications of Kuroba’s injuries.

 Kudo would play Kid. For all that Takumi had argued and debated, none of them were going to let him be bait for a criminal organization that had proven to be lethal. Saguru had covered logistics with Kudo, building up the perimeter and potential angles the threat could arrive from as tightly as if they were dealing with a Kid heist proper—more so even, because there was more risk if they made a mistake here that Kid’s heists didn’t hold.

It all centered around the stone that Kuroba had hidden. Unfortunately Kuroba refused to give its exact hiding place away, requiring yet another decoy. While he understood that the risk of losing the object he’d been trying to find for years was a very real concern to Kuroba, it added one more possibility of the whole operation being seen for what it was, a trap that might not even be sprung.

Now Saguru sat in an office building on the fifth floor, just high enough that he had a decent view of the museum and its surroundings. They had people all around the area, and it had been so hard to push this through official channels without alerting anyone they didn’t want to know. It had been passing documents literally hand to hand in secret like some sort of shady deal. It would all be worth it if things worked out right. Kudo’s international contacts would be watching air traffic to try and spot runners after this. But first they had to have their trap work.

It felt wrong watching Kudo moving around in Kid’s gear—a spare suit that Saguru had gotten from Kuroba’s hidden room. Kudo didn’t have quite the same fluidity or presence. He was trying, but Kuroba had been Kid for almost two decades and it was hard to match that many years of practice. Kudo made his best attempt. He strolled onto the rooftop like he belonged there, going for the agreed upon spot where he’d ‘produce’ the fake stone from an air vent. He was there and vulnerable and could be shot at any moment if things went wrong. In the first rule of things involving Kid, something would always go wrong.

“ _Nothing yet,”_ Kudo said over the headset. _“Maybe they’re waiting for something flashy?”_

 _“Don’t crack jokes,”_ Aoko snapped back.

_“It was only half a joke. Maybe they’re waiting for a neon sign with Kid declaring he’s back from the dead. I mean he is known for his large statements.”_

Kudo pulled out the stone with a flourish. Overdone in Saguru’s opinion, but Kudo didn’t have the dexterity to vanish it the way Kuroba could. Kuroba must be going crazy at the Kudo manor knowing this was going on. “Still nothing on my end,” Saguru said. There were a few pedestrians in the area, common enough despite the late hour. They’d left a restaurant, and another appeared to be a businessman who’d stayed late. No telltale glint from nearby windows. No figures that he could see with his binoculars lurking on rooftops or obvious open windows that a shot might come from. Over the headset, there were negatives from the rest of the group. Fewer people than the last heist, but a tighter crew. Kudo was moving to leave now, making one last show of looking at the gem in faint moonlight. Nothing.

Breath hissed between Saguru’s teeth. There were always other ways, slower ways, but...

A startled sound echoed over the headset.

 _“What?”_ Aoko snapped.

“ _Kaitou Kid,_ ” a voice said—Takagi? Shiratori? Saguru was less acquainted with Kudo’s police friends—“ _in the air! He’s landing on the office building across from the museum!”_

“Shit.” A double. Threat or...? Saguru tossed his binoculars aside. That was his building Kid was landing on, and he was only two floors away from the roof. “I am proceeding to the location,” Saguru said over the headset.

In his ear, Aoko’s tinny swears overlapped with other voices in a mishmash of babble that he didn’t bother trying to parse. He had his cane and two sets of stairs to tackle, but it didn’t take much time at all to reach the top with his heart hammering to press him on faster, faster. The roof door banged against the wall with the force he shoved against it. Saguru panted for breath as the white suited figure turned, monocle obscuring one eye.

Too short, suit too big, nervous body language—he could have been looking at Kuroba when Saguru first met him as Kid all over again. Wind made his cape billow with the same lucky chance for dramatics Kuroba always seemed to have. One hand tilted the brim of the top hat low to shadow his face, but Saguru didn’t have to see his face to know that it was Takumi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akako is basically functioning a bit like Yuuko from XxxHolic--her magic alone isn’t strong enough to protect Kaito/Kaito’s family/sever Kid from Kaito, so the universe has to shift balances to make it happen and it’s coming from Kaito. He paid with never being able to be a stage magician for increased healing abilities. (As for Akako asking Kaito for her first born children, it would totally make sense for her to want his bloodline if he’s immune to her. Plus natural luck. The spell she did to protect Kaito’s family coincidentally also protects her daughters because Takumi was the spell’s focus, and any blood relative to him was caught in the protective spell. Aoko, Nakamori, Chikage, Kaito, and anyone else related has a higher amount of protection. ...I keep giving Kaito children in this fic. >_>;;; Sorry hun, you don’t get to know these ones. I’m not sure you’d want to.)


	29. Chapter 29

There was white noise rushing in Saguru’s ears and he didn’t know if it was a blood rush from his surge of fear and anger or if it was from the wind on the rooftop. It didn’t matter. The roof didn’t matter, his role as another pair of eyes didn’t matter, the ache in his bad leg didn’t matter, just the moment of realization passing between them. It was an instinctual reaction; Saguru dove at Takumi and tackled him to the ground. Not a moment too soon as he heard the ping of a bullet striking an air unit several feet to their left.

“Aoko! Sniper. Same building as before, rooftop, West corner!” he shouted into the headset as he covered as much of Takumi as he could manage. The angle—that could have been Takumi’s shoulder, or if he hadn’t turned, his neck. They were literal sitting targets where they were. “Move,” Saguru snapped. He rolled a bit to the side so Takumi could scramble to all fours. His back remained to where the shot had come from, hypersensitive to the knowledge that any moment could lead to another bullet. He stayed between Takumi and the sniper’s vantage point.

There wasn’t much cover on the roof, just the shelter over the stairs and the air units. Saguru pushed them toward the door. That plan was scrapped when another bullet passed by close enough that Saguru felt several hairs tickle the back of his neck as they were cut. The bullet buried into the brick barely a foot in front of them. Shit. Not to the door then, to the side of the small shelter because that at least put a chunk of building between them and the sniper. Though it didn’t guarantee that there was only the one sniper.

Saguru shoved and Takumi went, stumbling and pale enough to rival the suit, behind the building. One last bullet took off the corner of the brick at head level just as he passed behind it. Saguru dove after him. He could hear their panicked breathing and a buzzing sound. That was from the headset that had fallen off in the last lunge. Line of sight—no other buildings as high on this side, no guarantee to be enough, stay low to the ground. Beside him Takumi’s breath got faster and faster—hyperventilating. Saguru picked up the headset, hand shaking. He could hear Aoko shouting orders and responses overlapping at times. The building had been left somewhat open to be the trap but... He hoped they caught them. “This is Saguru, in somewhat secure position for the moment with Kid double.” He glanced at Takumi. “Aoko, it’s Takumi.” He didn’t listen to the fallout of that, tossed the headset to one side for the moment. “Takumi-kun,” Saguru said, crouching in front of him. Takumi’s frantic gasps for air didn’t slow; there was no sign he heard at all. “Takumi-kun,” Saguru repeated, forcing his voice to be calm and level even though he felt anything but. “You need to breathe. Breathe with me. In. Out. In. Out. You can do that.”

It took a moment of repeating this for Takumi to come out of it enough to focus on Saguru. When he did, his eyes locked onto Saguru with all the desperation a fourteen year old possessed. Saguru reached out, telegraphing his movements.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. You need to try to breathe slower or you’re going to pass out.” He touched Takumi’s arm and in the next moment he found himself with an armful of shaking teenager as Takumi clung to him like he was the last pillar of sanity. Saguru rubbed his back around the glider mechanism as the rapid breaths against his chest slowed bit by bit. “You’re okay.”

“That.” Takumi choked. “That was. How. Tou-san.”

“Breathe.”

“That was terrifying,” Takumi finally got out. “I almost got shot.”

Not the time to yell, Saguru reminded himself. Not the time. “You shouldn’t have been out here. We didn’t have plans to protect you.”

“Had to.” Takumi shuddered, one large breath choked in his lungs and breathed out in shaking bursts. “He wasn’t going to go for Kudo. Didn’t shoot til I was there.”

“They are likely chasing the sniper now,” Saguru said.

“They better catch him.”

Saguru had to agree with that sentiment. If they all had to have this scare, they’d better at least gain something from it. Takumi’s shaking was slowing down. He still clung to Saguru as his breathing slowed to a more reasonable rate. Below, Saguru could see flashing police lights and Kudo’s absence, likely withdrawn on the off chance that he too would be aimed at. Takumi was right in the fact that no shots had gone Kudo’s way though. Somewhere down there Aoko had to be furious and terrified. Saguru shifted so Takumi was closer to the safety of the wall no matter what happened from here on out.

“How did you find the suit?” Saguru asked, more to distract them both from the tense waiting game than anything else.

Takumi looked up. The top hat slid precariously on his head, a miracle it had stayed on this long. Saguru didn’t think he’d ever seen Kuroba’s face look that young or scared in all the time he knew him.

“I guessed,” Takumi said. “Kid stuff had to either be in the apartment or Baa-chan’s house, and the first Kid was my grandfather so... There’s this big painting of him and I always thought it was weird where it was at because yeah, even if they loved him and wanted to remember him, who has a giant, life-sized portrait of themselves in a living room? And it was a hidden door.” Takumi rubbed his face, dislodging the monocle. It landed in one gloved hand, clover charm dangling limply over his lap. “Hakuba-sensei, it was barely a challenge to get up in that building to get here.”

“We’re spread too thin,” Saguru agreed. They’d had to pick and choose where to concentrate people and, well, that left holes no matter how much they hated it.

“I wouldn’t make a very good Kid,” Takumi said, still looking at the monocle. “I was terrified of using the glider and I couldn’t even act confident let alone do sleight of hand in that state of mind.”

“I don’t think Kuroba ever intended to give you the skills to be Kid,” Saguru said. Although that led to questions of Toichi’s motives in some of what he taught Kuroba. Still. “You wouldn’t make a half bad detective though,” he said, patting Takumi’s back. “You figured out the painting trap door and Kuroba’s identity all on your own.”

“I had Shiemi’s help for some of that,” Takumi said.

“She’d be pretty terrifying at this sort of thing too,” Saguru said. He reached for his headset. It buzzed with sound. It took a moment of fiddling one handed to change the frequency to only Aoko’s headset rather than the open channel; he didn’t want to let go of Takumi yet. “Status update?” he asked in the same calm tone he’d been using since Takumi broke down. Amazingly, Saguru wasn’t shaking at all.

_“Hakuba! Takumi—he wasn’t hurt was he? Are you okay?”_

“We’re both fine. Please do let us know when it is safe to move. We’re taking shelter at the moment.”

_“The sniper is caught,_ ” Aoko said. “ _Bastard tried to slip out the back. Megure-keibu’s group caught her. She was searched for suicide assists and put in a bulletproof car to transport. Hell of keeping her alive starts now.”_

“Understood.” This would be where the police showed their sides. Even people who weren’t working under the table might be upset because this hadn’t been sanctioned by the highest up, even if there was theoretical paperwork among the trusted few. Or there _would_ be paperwork now that there needed to be documentation for legal reasons. All the work from here out would be an uphill battle for the police. Saguru would keep playing his part outside that mess, feeding in Kuroba’s documentation when needed and continuing on the research end of things.

It would be a lot like how some of his cases have gone for the last decade, helping the police on the side in smaller ways instead of legwork-filled direct action. The pin Saguru had in his pocket ever since his last visit to his parents’ home felt conspicuous. Saguru was back to being a detective it seemed.

Takumi let go of Saguru and scooted back against the wall. “How did Tou-san do that over and over again?” he asked.

“I imagine in part what drove you; desperation.” Sixteen year old Kuroba putting on a smile and walking out on a roof he had no idea what he’d find, all because he had questions and felt he had no other way to get answers. Sixteen year old Kuroba getting shot at and putting on a smile because that was how he compartmentalized, by acting and ego boosting, and pretending hard enough he was okay. Sixteen year old Kuroba learning his father was murdered and that no justice had been served. There were always other choices. But when you’re in high school, when the adults in your life are unreliable or absent, when there is no one you feel you could turn to... Saguru could understand why Kuroba took the route he did and why Takumi put the suit on today. He could understand it, but he didn’t like it. Saguru had once been fourteen, solving a murder because he had been there and no one else saw the clues that were plain as day in front of him. For the first time he wondered if Mum had ever wanted to discourage his detective work because he was too young. She had only been supportive and someone to talk to when things he saw affected his peace of mind but he wouldn’t have blamed her if she ever put her foot down from the perspective of who he was now.

“Do you think he ever got scared?”

“Likely constantly. He’s just better than most at pretending he isn’t.” Saguru sighed. “He probably worried for everyone else over himself more in the long run though.” You couldn’t throw yourself into things the way Kuroba did if you didn’t have at least some bit of a self-destructive streak. “Of course he is also an adrenaline junkie.” From riling up Aoko to coming up with death-defying magic tricks, not all of that was a side effect of being Kid. That was pure Kuroba that just transferred over.

“I could see how gliding could be addictive,” Takumi murmured. He finally looked like he wasn’t going to pass out from panic. “If there wasn’t the risk of being shot, it would have been really fun.”

There were more lights down below, a fleet of lights, police crawling out of the woodworks as the whole covert operation shed its secrecy. He could see them going into other buildings, probably searching them too just in case.  _“I’m almost there,_ ” Aoko said in his headset. They would be searching Saguru’s building too.

Saguru let himself relax fractionally. Aches and pains he had been blocking out became known all at once. He had a scrape along his arm and hand from tackling Takumi and a wide range of smaller bruises, especially on his knee. He didn’t have his cane, must have lost it once he hit the roof because he’d had it on the stairs.

“Hakuba-sensei,” Takumi said.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry for getting mad at you for keeping Tou-san’s secret. It...it wasn’t your secret to tell.”

“It’s all forgiven.”

Takumi gave him a weak smile. “I don’t like being angry,” Takumi admitted. “It makes me feel out of control. And I do things I regret. I don’t really like being the center of attention, not like Tou-san.” He hugged his knees. “He doesn’t mind all eyes on him and neither does Kaa-san. I’ve never wanted to be a performer like Tou-san or a police officer like Kaa-san. I don’t know what I want to be yet, but it’s not either of those, and it’s definitely not being the next Kid. I’m not cut out to be a thief.”

“You don’t have to choose yet,” Saguru said, “and what you choose doesn’t have to be for forever.”

“I know.” He sighed. “I guess I kind of gave up any chance of sports being a career option. Kaa-san’s going to ground me for the rest of my life.”

“Only until you graduate, surely.”

That got a tiny laugh out of him and Takumi relaxed a bit more. The hat slid low on his forehead, almost covering his eyebrows. “I hope they got what they needed,” Takumi said. “I hope this works.”

“So do I.”

They listened to police sirens and watched the blur of lights below reflect off windows; the whole of Tokyo would know something big had happened by the end of the night. It could have been minutes or dozens of minutes before Aoko burst onto the roof, red faced from exertion and disheveled. She rounded the corner and threw herself at Takumi before Saguru or Takumi could do much more than flinch at the burst of noise.

“Takumi, what the fuck?” she said. Her voice was ragged, from shouting, stress, or emotion, perhaps all three.

“Kaa-san...”

“You’re staying with me or your Jii-chan for the rest of break, I’m not letting you out of sight at all, for fuck’s sake.”

She wasn’t yelling, and that seemed to alarm Takumi more than her crushing hug or the tears in her voice. His hands hovered at his sides, not sure if he should hug back or just let it happen.

“I’ll be mad at you later,” Aoko said. “Just. You almost died tonight. Don’t. Don’t ever do that to me again. It was bad enough with Kaito—just. Don’t.”

“I won’t,” Takumi said in a small voice. “I don’t want to do it again.”

Saguru scooted away, found his cane left just past the door to the stairwell. There was a bullet hole in the brick a foot up and to the right of it. The cane itself didn’t appear to have taken any damage at least. He ached as he levered himself to his feet.

“Hakuba,” Aoko said. She looked at him over Takumi’s head. “Thank you.”

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” he said gravely.

She nodded. “Go get that looked at,” Aoko said, nodding at his hands. “You’re bleeding.”

The scrapes were bleeding, sluggish and mostly halfway to scabbing over. They would need cleaned out though. “I will.” Saguru waited for them to leave though. He didn’t feel safe leaving Takumi out of sight yet.

***

It was raining again, not a storm but the soft patter of raindrops against the tree out by Saguru’s window, its leaves blocking out the worst of the street light glow. The clock on the desk read two forty-six in the morning. The ceiling looked no different from usual and it was a sad thought that he could trace where its cracks and stains were even in the dark. Saguru’s eyes ached as much as his body did, but for all that he’d laid there for several hours, he didn’t dare try to sleep. After a night like this one, he could only have nightmares. If he tried closing his eyes he knew he’d see Takumi dying or Kuroba’s fall bold behind his eyelids. Or perhaps his psyche would pull a bit deeper and throw Mel’s death at him again in all its agonizing detail. His brain certainly had more than enough memories of corpses to work from in building a maximum horror scenario to leave him scarred.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have gone home. Perhaps he should have taken Kudo up on his offer to spend the night. Perhaps he should have skipped trying to sleep entirely and joined Aoko in tacking the monstrous amount of paperwork that was racking up already.

Saguru blinked hard as if that would ease the ache behind his eye sockets.

In the dark, his phone lit up with a text, its blue light giving the apartment room an unearthly glow. Two forty-nine, one text from Kuroba’s Kid phone, three words. _Are you awake?_

_Yes._ He half fumbled to answer, fingers clumsy with exhaustion and stiff with bandages forced on him by an EMT who had shown up just in case. _You as well?_

_Who can sleep?_ Kuroba sent back. _I can’t. Can I call you?_

_Yes._ Saguru’s phone lit up with an incoming call bare seconds after sending his reply. “Kuroba?” he said. His voice came out as a croak.

_“Hakuba._ ” Kuroba sounded like he’d been awake at least as long as Saguru had, a bit hoarse and slow. “ _Getting pretty sick of staring at the same ceiling,”_ Kuroba said. “ _It’s a little weird to know where all the flaws are in someone else’s home.”_

“It’s unfortunate to experience it in your own home,” Saguru said. “I believe I am getting closer to estimating the exact date the water damage in the corner occurred.”

_“If you ever get bored of trying to figure that out, I could tell you.”_

“I appreciate the offer,” Saguru said drily.

_“You went home today,”_ Kuroba said, diverting from architectural small talk.

“I felt like I should. Kudo-san had enough to deal with without me invading more space. It feels like an abuse of hospitality with how often I’ve been over there.”

_“Imagine how I feel,”_ Kuroba grumbled. He’d been doing his best to be positive, but it wasn’t much of a surprise to hear that positivity erode. They had all been through too much lately. “ _I want to go home so bad. I don’t care that this bedroom is half the size of my apartment, I need my space back and some freedom to test my body’s limits without being glared at by well-meaning pseudo doctors._ ” Haibara must have caught him stretching, Saguru thought. He could almost see Kuroba’s frustrated grimace. _“If I have to suffer being here, you could at least be uncomfortable with me._ ”

“Friends suffer together?” Saguru asked.

“ _Yes. You’re too far away to properly share it.”_

“Are you asking me to come there?” Saguru said.

There was a pause and Saguru realized that, yes, that was what Kuroba was doing.

“Oh.”

“ _It is kind of lonely at the moment,_ ” Kuroba said, _“and it’s not like either of us is going to get a good night’s sleep.”_

Stare at the ceiling alone, or go across town...? It wasn’t really a question. “I’ll be there in a bit.”

_“I’ll pay cab fee.”_

Kuroba had to be feeling truly bleak for all that he was going for a light tone at the moment.

***

It felt a bit wrong to sneak in through Kudo’s front door in the early hours of the morning, even though he’d been given a spare key to use for the foreseeable future that they were working together. Still, Saguru crept down the dark hallways toward Kuroba’s room with less guilt than he’d have felt if Kuroba hadn’t asked him to be there. There was a light on in the study. Kudo was passed out on top of a pile of paperwork, pen still loosely grasped in his hand and the Kid costume from before thrown haphazardly over a chair.

Saguru let him be, turning out the light as he went. Kuroba’s room was open too, a soft glow from a bed lamp lighting the way. He tapped on the doorframe. Kuroba glanced up from staring out the dark window, awkwardly perched on the windowsill. His hands played with a deck of cards, working to regain his dexterity and following the meditative motions of muscle memory.

“Hakuba,” he said a tiny, sincere smile coming and going on his face. He looked exhausted. It hadn’t been a restful few days for anyone.

Saguru smiled back and held up books he’d grabbed on his way out. “You’re cleared for reading correct? I thought you might like something to occupy your time.”

“Yep. Have been for a while, but there’s mostly mystery novels here.” Kuroba sighed. “So many mystery novels. I like a good detective novel every now and again and Kudo Yusaku’s Night Baron series is good, but there are times when you just need something less suspenseful.” He waved a hand at Saguru’s books. “Please tell me those aren’t mystery novels.”

“They’re not mystery novels,” Saguru said faithfully. “They’re a few of the novels the literature club has read this year. One of which,” he held a book apart from the others, “is one I was supposed to be reading this summer break and have been neglecting.”

“For shame,” Kuroba said, straight faced. He reached out for a book and Saguru passed him the few he’d chosen, the most cheerful of what they’d read and as far from anything resembling their current lives as possible. “Ooh, fantasy. That sounds fun.”

“I thought it might.”

Kuroba smiled again and it lingered as he moved back to his bed. The cards went on the bedtable. “Sit,” he said, patting the stretch of empty mattress beside him. It could be intimate sitting that close. Honestly, nothing sounded nicer than curling up with a book at Kuroba’s side at the moment. He settled carefully next to him; Kuroba’s warmth spread through his right side, present, grounding. Pleasant.

Kuroba made no move to read though, rubbing the cover back and forth in his hands. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” Saguru said. “I could use the company as well.”

“And thank you.” Kuroba held his gaze, serious and intent. “For helping Takumi.”

Saguru couldn’t look away. He could make out every tiny pink scar that covered Kuroba’s right side, see the lines in his face, where stress lines warred with smile lines, both equally worn. The same deep blue he remembered from high school staring back at him; Kuroba’s eyes hadn’t changed much, just held deeper emotions than before. Kuroba’s lips were chapped. Saguru cursed his brain for noticing. “Of course,” Saguru repeated, a beat too slow. “I could never sit back and let him be hurt, you know that.”

“Still. Thanks.”

Kuroba’s hand on his, a slight squeeze that went straight to Saguru’s chest where it ached and built, like Kuroba has squeezed his heart, not his hand. He still hadn’t looked away and maybe...maybe if it were some other topic, Saguru might have the courage to say any of the words building in his throat, clogging behind his lips. That Takumi felt like family, that Kuroba felt like family. That Saguru wanted to keep them both. That Saguru would do whatever he could for Kuroba and those he cared for because Saguru cared for him.

Saguru said nothing.

He squeezed Kuroba’s hand back, once, and pulled his gaze down onto the paperback novel in his lap before he crossed any lines he couldn’t go back on. Now was not the time. “I’m glad I got there in time,” he said, voice soft.

“Yeah,” Kuroba said with a sigh. “Me too.” He picked up his book, pulling his hand away. Its warmth was missed. Saguru took that as his cue to open his own book.

The words on the pages blurred together after a while, Kuroba’s warmth draining away tension Saguru had only half noticed until his eyes felt heavy and his book drooped in his hands. He didn’t remember when he fell asleep. He couldn’t be sure if Kuroba was still awake beside him either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's uh *checks doc* two extras that go around here. I'll...probably post them at some point this week. Sorry for being a bit slow to respond lately. Life's a little stressful lately and it's put me in an odd headspace. Good news is that most of this fic is edited!! I have some tweaks still with the epilogue, but main portion is all done :) (still writing extras. hahaaaa.... >_> it never ends it seems)


	30. Chapter 30

Saguru woke to someone clearing their throat pointedly. It took a moment to open his eyes, but he’d already placed the sigh that followed as belonging to Haibara Ai.

“Amusing as it is to see two grown men passed out on each other,” she said, arms crossed and bordering on impatience, “I need to do a checkup and I only have twenty minutes before I have to be somewhere else.” She was dressed nicely in a blouse and skirt instead of a lab coat thrown over whatever comfortable clothing she happened to be wearing at the time. The usual medical kit hung from one hand.

Against Saguru’s neck, Kuroba groaned. Saguru’s face heated when Kuroba burrowed closer to Saguru’s side, clinging like a sloth. “Nooooo,” Kuroba mumbled. “It’s too early and I barely got any sleep.”

“Tough,” Haibara said. She set the medical kit on the free chair and rolled up her sleeves.

“Rude,” Kuroba grumbled. He sat up. The loss of his warmth left Saguru’s right side noticeably colder.

“Call it karma,” Haibara said.

Saguru slid off the bed to give them space. The books he’d brought were stacked neatly on the bedside table. He should let the Kudos know he was there. He’d rather stay with Kuroba.

“How much longer do I have until I can go home, Doc?” Kuroba asked as he opened his yukata so Haibara could check the abrasions along his shoulder and side. “I can walk a bit, make it to the bathroom and back, no infections; a hospital would send me home by now.”

“No, a hospital would be running tests wondering if you were human by now,” Haibara said. She checked bandages, noticeably less than last time Saguru saw them changed. The wounds under them were completely scabbed over, looking less like raw meat and more like burns that had had a month to heal. “You have to be careful stretching these,” she said. “Scabs and new skin don’t have the elasticity of healthy skin. You’re going to tear something and end up bleeding all over and risking infection with a bunch of tiny tears.”

Kuroba rolled his eyes when she wasn’t looking. “I’ve been injured before.”

“Not this badly.” She went over each injured spot, cleaned it, put ointment and re-bandaged. She reached Kuroba’s hip and Saguru glanced away. “The hardest bit is going to be keeping the leg brace from rubbing the more you try to walk,” she said. “And the bullet wound on your leg. It tore a lot of muscle fibers. Even after it heals, you’re probably going to have twinges for a long time.”

“That’s how bullet wounds go. How’s my leg?”

“I don’t have the equipment to check on your tendons,” Haibara said. “You need to see a professional for that.”

“Fair enough.” Kuroba sighed. “But can I go home? Don’t get me wrong, the hospitality here is wonderful, but I’d hate to abuse it any longer than I have to.”

Haibara hummed. “Can you? Physically you could go home, but is your home watched?”

“Hakuba?” Kuroba asked.

Saguru looked away from Haibara carefully probing the tendons around Kuroba’s knee and calf. “I didn’t notice anyone watching in the last few days, but with yesterday, perhaps waiting a bit longer is best.  If you intended to go to your mother’s home for a while, you would have to ask her.”

“Damn,” Kuroba sighed.

“Quit whining,” Haibara said. “Hakuba-san, you should talk to Kudo. This morning’s press is going insane as apparently there was a massive online info dump that makes the Wikileaks look tame in comparison.” She tilted her head, eying Saguru unnervingly. “And you were in the news again. Someone got a picture of you leaving the police line yesterday.”

“Lovely.” There’d be speculation about why he was there, questions on if he was on the case against Kid, or perhaps questions about what he had to do with the internal police investigations once that came out. They wouldn’t be able to hide the internal investigations thanks to Kuroba Chikage dumping her files online. “In that case, Kuroba, the area is likely watched by reporters if not our irritating shadows.”

“Guess it doesn’t matter if I’m stuck here a bit longer then. Water my plant for me?”

Haibara raised an eyebrow.

“Will do,” Saguru said. “I’ll go see Kudo now...”

“See you later,” Kuroba said, cheerful enough for the moment. “Oh, and Hakuba?”

“Mm?”

“Happy birthday. Forgot to say it last night.”

Saguru blinked, calculated the date. August twenty-ninth. And two days before school started back up.

“You forgot it was your birthday, didn’t you,” Kuroba said, laughing at him.

“Shut up, Kuroba.” Saguru rubbed his forehead, his eyes still ached, not enough sleep. “I haven’t finished my lesson plans for next semester.” There had been so much happening and so many things to occupy his time... Mum was going to want to see him too, and then there was the reports he had to write up for Aoko, and checking up on Millard, and... Damn, there weren’t enough hours in a day.

“Good luck,” Kuroba said.

“Thanks.”

***

“Saguru, I came to surprise you at your apartment this morning, but you weren’t there.”

“Apologies, Mum. I’ve been a bit busy.”

“Enough that you’re not sleeping?” Mum asked, concern echoing down the line.

“I stayed elsewhere,” Saguru assured her. She didn’t need to know that he’d only slept a little bit.

“Ah,” Mum said. “You’re with Kuroba.”

“And several detectives working on this crime organization case.”

“But you came for Kuroba,” she said, amused now.

Saguru rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t win with this; she knew him too well. “Yes, Mum, I spent the night because of Kuroba. I...haven’t been sleeping very well since the last heist,” he admitted. “I sleep better knowing he’s nearby.”

“Ah.” All teasing left her voice. “I’m glad you can stay then. Wherever that is.”

“I’m not telling you. You can wait until I’m done here to pester me about my birthday.”

“You used to love your birthday when you were little,” Mum said.

“And I got older.” There wasn’t much fun in birthdays after you reached the point where you could just buy yourself anything that caught your fancy. Mel had liked them though. He’d always insisted on celebrating Saguru’s birthday together, usually in some way that left Saguru exasperated and amused by the end of it. Last year he’d been too deep in grief to notice the day passing. Waking up next to Kuroba was a decent way to start it this year.

Mum hummed, disagreeing with his reasoning. She still enjoyed birthdays too, perhaps because it gave her an excuse to drag people into socializing. She let the topic go for the moment though. “It’s sad news with the leaks on the internet. It’s all the news is covering this morning. I thought your father was going to choke on his tea when they brought the topic up.”

“It’s good news, actually,” Saguru said. “It makes cover up harder with it so public. Some people will be going to ground, but this gives the chance to break down their infrastructure in places of power and make it harder to ever reach the scale it’s at ever again. And it’s international information too. That gives police across the world information to fight back.”

“I think it was the global bit that had your father choking,” Mum said. “I think he was picturing a bit smaller scale that you were dealing with.”

“To be honest, I wasn’t aware of quite how large this was until I started reading some of the files that ended up being released online.” There was knowing that a group was multifaceted and incorporated into niches around the world and there was _knowing_. No wonder Kuroba felt so powerless.

“Mm, well, now that you’ve woken the beast, don’t go relaxing. I don’t want to wake up to find your name on the telly on who’s been a latest victim.”

“I know.” This was only the beginning. The victory of last night felt smaller and the weight of all that still had to be done was crushing when out that way. They had to take their victories when they could in whatever form they came or they would go mad. “I’ll find time to come over later in the day,” he promised.

“I’ll hold you to it,” Mum said.

***

There was a surprising lack of reporters outside the school. There had been two staked out near Saguru’s family home, and a whole groups lingering at police stations, and even a few _koen_ , trying to get opinions on the police investigations. The last few days had been chaotic from the fallout. Saguru had gotten phone calls from London, calls from work, calls from Aoko, his father’s old connections, Kudo’s connections, and even people Saguru hadn’t known even had his number. He hadn’t been sure what he was going into when he returned to work after summer holiday. When he’d left, he had just been outed and was being pressured into attending a Kid heist. It felt like a lifetime ago and he’d forgotten to be worried about how it could affect him in the long term. 

Compared to outing a criminal organization and nearly getting shot a handful of days ago, facing coworkers and a classroom of teenagers wasn’t very scary at all.

The students went silent as he entered the room, all eyes on him. Saguru caught four students sidling back to their desks from where they’d grouped around Takumi. Takumi looked like he was considering the window as a potential escape route. He set his teaching materials on the front table and stood as casual as he could pull off, like nothing had changed.

“Welcome back. Hopefully you all had a pleasant break—I won’t ask if you’ve managed to complete your summer homework. Yet.” There were a couple sheepish faces in the mix, but most were still alert and fixated, an underlying tension filling the room. “Yoshida-san will take roll call, and then we can go over upcoming events.” Saguru doubted they’d actually get around to talking about any class events. The narrow focus meant that the moment he allowed them to, they’d be asking questions, and a few were already fidgeting in the way that said they wouldn’t even wait that long.

He was right as before Yoshida could get to the front of the room to go call off names, Fujiwara in the back of the room raised a hand.

“Sensei! Are the rumors that Kaitou Kid is dead true?”

“Any matters regarding Kaitou Kid are not related to school,” Saguru said, “and as such won’t be discussed. But as police have stated, as of now there is no conclusive evidence that Kid is alive or dead.”

“But you were there right?”

“I was.” Saguru pinned the girl who spoke with a firm stare. “I also was not deeply involved with the heist prevention efforts; camera watching is not a good venue to catch the subtleties of Kid’s actions.” None of it lies. Fujiwara lowered her hand sheepishly. “Now if we could—”

“Are you going to stay our teacher if you’re involved with the police investigation?” Hikawa in the front left asked, not even bothering to raise his hand.

“I have no intention of leaving my position at the moment,” Saguru said. “And at the moment I am here as your homeroom teacher, not as a detective. Yoshida-san, roll call, please.” That seemed to do the trick for the moment. Saguru met Takumi’s eyes for a second and saw gratitude and relief. It was going to be a stressful day for both of them. Even so, as roll call finished and Saguru straightened his work notes to discuss upcoming events, he was glad to be back. He had missed detective work more than he’d thought, but returning to teaching after the stress of the past few weeks was like stepping back into a bit of normalcy. He could do with a bit of normalcy.

***

“So I still have a job,” Saguru said to Kate during lunch break. They’d missed each other this morning and Saguru had had to go to the office for the first part of his break to be told that he was under watch but allowed to continue working for the moment. It was about as much as he could hope for really. Kate gave him a wide smile. So had some of the other teachers; there were more staff who were sympathetic than he’d expected.

“You do! I’m glad.” She leaned on the back of her chair, twisted around to talk to him, looking as intense as some of his students had that day with questions bubbling up in her. “We weren’t sure you know?” She lowered her voice. “I heard that a police officer wrote to the school board about your moral character but don’t tell anyone that.”

A police officer, hmm? That had to be Aoko. Saguru owed her then.

“It looks like you had a pretty exciting break though,” Kate said. “I watched the news. Between that Kid heist and then the internal investigations with the police, and that net leak—you are involved with that, right? I kind of figured when they mentioned the Kid investigations and help from outside sources, what with all the,” she waved a hand, “things going on.”

“Exciting is one way to put it.” Exhausting would be more accurate. “I don’t believe that I’m going to be able to go back to peacefully minding my own business.”

“Do you want to?” Kate asked. She looked him up and down. “You look tired, but honestly you’re more...focused than I’ve seen all year.”

“I feel more like me,” Saguru said after a moment. He couldn’t help but touch the pocket with his pin in it, and the pocket watch nestled below it. “I think I’m done feeling sad. I’m not sure I’ll ever reach the point of not feeling sad when I think about what I lost but...”

“Not wallowing in depression?” Kate said. “Good. That’s good.” She clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll have to come out to another get together. Gotta be more social if you want people in your corner.”

“I’ll try.” He paused. “Do you think people will be in my corner?”

“Of course,” Kate said immediately. “You haven’t made any enemies at least, and despite the board being full of traditionalists, most of the staff is more liberal. I know it’s probably really uncomfortable to have your life story out in the open, but it’s a sympathetic one, and you’re an alumni. There’s long time staff advocating for you.” Erika. It had to be since she was one of the only teachers still here from back when Saguru was a student. He glanced across the room and managed to catch her looking in his direction at the same time. He gave her a grateful smile. “You’ll get through this,” Kate said. “It doesn’t hurt to come out for drinks again sometime though.”

“Thank you,” Saguru said.

Kate waved his thanks away. “We’re friends, right?”

“Right.”

Everything and nothing had changed, Saguru reflected as Kate turned back to her desk. The same students in his classes with the same ones to keep an eye on. The same coworkers, who as a whole didn’t seem to view him differently. The same hastily made lunch of leftovers on his desk and a pile of papers to grade. A whole criminal organization unearthed into the light. It was too simple, going too smoothly. Even counting Takumi’s jump into the trap, it was still too smooth.

He wanted to feel content at the progress made, but all that he had at the moment was a feeling in his stomach reminiscent of missing a step on the stairs, the moment of open air before the jarring return to solid ground.

A student arrived, probably to plead again for an extension on their summer homework.

Whatever the feeling was, it wasn’t going anywhere. He had plenty to do until the other shoe dropped.

***

“Grading?” Kuroba asked, in the kitchen of the Kudo manor instead of his guest room. They were alone for the moment, Ran and the children gone to bed and Kudo off working overtime as he had every day since they sprung the trap. He would be doing so for quite a while more by the look of things.

“Mm.” Saguru crossed out incorrect conjugations and nitpicked poorly written sentences with red pen.

“You don’t have to come all the time now that you’re working again,” Kuroba said. “I know it’s a lot further to get to the school from here than our apartment building.”

“It’s fine, Kuroba. I’m here because I want to be.” He’d stay the night again today, and perhaps the next day, and return home a few days after that, rotating in attempt to not overstay his welcome though it was probably long past that point. “Besides, it is nice to have the company.”

“Can’t argue there.” Kuroba sighed. “It’s lonelier with the girls back at school, though they still want me to read them bedtime stories so that’s fun at least.”

Saguru smiled, diagramming the proper grammatical structure of the current paper he was grading. “I think they’ve all but adopted you as another uncle.”

“No arguments there,” Kuroba said. “I like kids. It’s been too long since Takumi was that age.”

Though ruminating on the Kudo girls brought up other thoughts... “Do you visit Koizumi-san’s daughters?”

“Mm. Not so much. I’ve met them a few times.” Kuroba spun a tea mug around and around in a circle. His dexterity was improving by the day, enough that when he got bored with that and began twirling his teaspoon, it danced between his hands almost as seamlessly as he used to manage. “I haven’t had the chance to interact with them like Kudo’s kids. Kinda don’t think Akako wants me to. They’re her kids at the end of the day, not mine even if they’re mine biologically.”

“I see.” Not unexpected. A bit sad though. “And Aoko doesn’t know about that.”

“No. Don’t know if I’ll ever tell her. I’ll tell Takumi sometime though. Uh. When he’s not mad at me still.”

“Why not get it all aired out at once and all his anger out of the way?” Saguru said lightly. Kuroba snorted. “Does Aoko know about Kudo-san?”

Kuroba’s hands stilled for a moment and he breathed out slowly. “Was it obvious?” he asked, resigned.

“No.” Kuroba and Ran had been nothing but polite to each other. There was always the fact that both Kudos had taken Kaito in that hinted at deeper attachment, but if it wasn’t for Midori’s resemblance to Kuroba and Kuroba’s greater comfort with her over Haibara in his personal space, he’d never have guessed. “You’ve both been fairly neutral toward each other. It was an educated guess.”

Kuroba sighed again. “I guess him letting me stay was a dead giveaway, huh?”

It was Saguru’s turn to freeze, hand clenched tight around his pen. He set it down slowly. “Actually, I meant Kudo Ran.”

“Oh.”

“Both of them?”

Kuroba flushed, unable to meet his eyes.  “It was... I was in a bad place at the time and. Look, I don’t do things like that usually.”

“I didn’t think you did,” Saguru said. He knew it had to be an odd situation or things wouldn’t be...whatever they were with the Kudos. But what he couldn’t get his head around was, “You’re attracted to men?”

Kuroba stared and laughed, once, incredulous. “You really didn’t—yeah, Hakuba. Yes, I’m attracted to men and women. It’s more of a person thing than a...y’know, never mind.” He started fiddling with the mug again, spinning it so it juddered against the table noisily. “How did you figure it out? If it wasn’t Kudo?”

Midori was the Kudo’s secret to tell, and yet... “I guessed,” he said after a moment. “Between their comfort and familiarity toward you and letting you stay, it seemed like an obvious conclusion that something more was between you at some point. Between your implicit trust in their codes of honor and their ease with having you in their home... Your comfort with physical proximity...” Saguru picked his pen back up and finished the sentence he’d been writing. “You, however, just proved that guess correct.”

“You guessed,” Kuroba said flatly. “I guess at least I don’t have to worry too much that I had some obvious tell. It’s not even like that anymore; it was really just a...a thing that happened once... Hell, I had a whole conversation with them with Aoko in the room and even if we’ve been divorced for years, don’t think for a moment that she wouldn’t flip out if she realized I’d slept with a married couple.”

Saguru winced. Mops were a thing of the past. It was far more likely that something would get broken. “I wouldn’t have guessed at all if I didn’t know you so well.” Granted Aoko knew him just as well. It explained so much though. Why Kuroba could trust Kudo and both Kudo’s ease at having an injured Kid in their care, Kuroba’s defense of Kudo the one time Saguru brought him up, and that Kuroba had sent Kudo a birthday message. Kuroba wasn’t someone who could be casual with intimacy. “Outside of your trust, there wasn’t any specific behavior that led me to notice.”

“I really don’t normally...” Kuroba waved a hand. The mug juddered to a stop.

“I’m not judging you. I’m the last person who would judge for a non-normative...arrangement.” Relationship? Could the word be applied here?

Kuroba frowned at the wood grain tabletop, rubbing the healing side of his face absently. “I was in a bad place. I lost Jii and then there was everything with Aoko and reworking Takumi’s visitations and they were attractive and...it was nice to not think for a while.” He sighed. “The not thinking bit didn’t last very long and—”

Saguru caught his hand, pulling it away from his face. Kuroba frowned, caught between embarrassment and irritation. “It’s okay,” Saguru said.

“It isn’t. I’m not really good with no strings sex it turns out.”

“You’d hardly be the only one.” And probably not the only one from the encounter to feel that way.

Kuroba dropped his gaze to where their hands were still linked. He didn’t try to snatch his hand back, so Saguru didn’t either. “Nothing really changed after. I’m a thief, he’s a detective, she’s a detective’s wife…”

“Had you hoped something would change?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking back then.” Kuroba shrugged, winced a bit at the motion and Saguru only noticed because he was looking for micro-expressions. “I wasn’t thinking really.”

“You were grieving.”

“It doesn’t really make it an excuse. I was familiar enough with grief by then to know that I probably would always be grieving at least a little.”

There wasn’t really anything comforting to say to that. Saguru was in that position of grief himself even if he was beginning to crawl out from the hole of depression grief had left him in. He gently squeezed Kuroba’s hand once more.  “For what it’s worth, they seem to hold you in high regard despite their objections to your night job.”

“Well.” Kuroba sighed. “Seventeen years is a long time to know someone.”

“It is.”

Kuroba cleared his throat and pulled his hand free. “But then you’d know that,” he said with false levity. “You came back and fit into things easy enough.”

“Mm.” If he fit, it was through Kuroba’s efforts, not his own. It was tempting to reach for Kuroba’s hand again, but without a reason to, Saguru couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“…I haven’t been with many people since the divorce,” Kuroba said after a moment. “It’s never felt right. Not when I’m still Kid and not when all the reasons Aoko left are still between us.”

“Are you still Kid now that you found Pandora?” Saguru asked.

Kuroba hummed, neutral. “Do you think,” he asked, “I could escape jail if I testified? Against the organization?”

“Reparations?”

“Something like that.” He stared past Saguru at some grim vision only he could see. “Kid can’t die until his legend does. I could vanish Kid forever, but that leaves the police at loose ends for their evidence. Could say it was an anonymous source, but in the end, it has more weight with Kid behind it, doesn’t it? Kid pulls back the curtain one final time and reveals the insect swarm behind it.” He blinked and focused on Saguru again. “So I don’t think I’m quite done with Kid after all.” He smiled, but it was only a curve of lips, no heart in it at all. “I’ve spent so long thinking I’d never retire that I don’t know what I’ll do if I do retire.”

“Live,” Saguru said. “Live and do anything you want.”

“Anything I want, huh?” Kuroba’s smile gained a bit of warmth. He sat back, stretched as much as his body let him without protesting. “Mmmmh!” His back popped audibly. “Hell if I know then. I’ve been Kid longer than I haven’t. What will I fill the time with?”

“Somehow I think you’ll manage to keep busy.” Kuroba managed to keep himself occupied even in a sickbed; he’d find some new hobby or something easily if given the chance.

“True. Maybe I’ll do informal shows again,” Kuroba mused. “Keep that bit of Oyaji’s legacy alive instead of Kid. At the park. No stages involved.”

Saguru would like to see that. See Kuroba put on a show that wasn’t fueled by desperation or to cover up something else. A show just for the joy and challenge of it for the sake of mystifying those who watched it.

“Will you stick around to see it?” Kuroba asked.

Saguru looked into bright blue eyes and their directness staring back, no judgment. Kuroba’s hand was still so close on the table if Saguru were to just reach out and take it. _Kuroba liked men._ Saguru looked away too quickly, too telling as he couldn’t control a light blush. “I plan to be,” he said to his stack of grading.

“Good,” Kuroba said. His voice was warm. _Intimate_ , Saguru’s brain offered and he shoved the thought away. Kuroba’s hand caught the corner of his eye and he looked up to see it palm up in front of him. “So, got any more of those pens? I’ll help you finish that before you’re up all night.”

“I can do my own work,” Saguru said.

Kuroba smiled. Fond. The crinkle around his eyes and the slant of his smile were soft and Saguru was hopeless. “I know you can. I could use the practice regaining dexterity though. Practicing your stupidly neat handwriting should do the trick.”

“My handwriting isn’t stupid,” Saguru said. He was already reaching for his bag and another pen though. “Haibara isn’t going to get angry with me if I let you do this is she?”

“I’m cleared for reading and writing and pretty much anything that doesn’t involve a ton of bending, lifting, or moving around.” Kuroba clicked the pen and twirled it—clumsily; it slid to the edge of his grip before he regained control. “Grading some high school English papers isn’t even hard.”

It was getting late and Saguru did want these done tonight and to have time to catch up on sleep. Kuroba certainly could have answered the homework easily enough so Saguru could trust him to grade it... He slid a quarter of the pile across the table.

Kuroba eyes the difference between them, then clicked his tongue before turning to his task.

“It’s my job,” Saguru muttered. Kuroba ignored him, testing out the pen on a napkin, re-familiarizing himself with Saguru’s handwriting. The grading seemed to slide by, helped along by Kuroba’s presence. He started humming at some point, voice shifting pitch depending on the song and its original singer. Saguru didn’t know most of the songs, but it was nice. Sipping tea and marking up papers in the bubble of Kuroba’s spell. It was nearing midnight when he finished the last one. Kuroba finished a bit before him, humming gone soft and mellow, closer to a lullaby than the catchier tunes he’d been humming earlier. The borrowed pen spun lazily in his hand as he watched Saguru. Saguru couldn’t say how long he’d been watching, found he didn’t mind either.

“Thank you,” Saguru said, hand out for the papers Kuroba had graded. Across them was a passable copy of his handwriting, growing better as the stack went on no doubt.

“Any time,” Kuroba said. He handed off the papers, saving the pen for last. That, he placed directly into Saguru’s palm, fingers brushing for a tangible moment against Saguru’s skin. Saguru forced his breathing to remain steady.

“We should. It’s time for bed,” he said, like he was fifteen again and tripping over his tongue in front of his first crush. _Kuroba likes men_. He blinked hard, shoving that thought down and away and for a time when he didn’t have Kuroba in front of him. “You need any help?”

Kuroba waved him off. “I have a crutch and a brace and too much energy,” Kuroba said, levering himself up on said crutch. The bruising had finally faded enough to use it without aggravating it and his ribs were healed enough for it not to hurt too badly. “I’m fine.”

“Of course.” Kuroba had to have his independence. Still, Saguru moved at his pace down the hallway to their guest rooms. “Goodnight, Hakuba.”

“Goodnight.” Saguru stared at Kuroba’s closed door a beat too long. This was ridiculous. Nothing had changed. Yet when he closed his eyes to sleep, the words echoed through him again and again. _Kuroba likes men._

***

His phone was buzzing, buzzing, buzzing by his head, but Saguru just wanted to turn over and ignore it. It could be Aoko. It could be Kudo. It could be his mother or Millard or Takumi or Kuroba or any number of other people calling at...uh, three twenty-four in the morning. He scowled at the red numbers of his alarm clock blinking mockingly across the room. The phone stopped buzzing. The room went dark again. Saguru relaxed. Whoever it was could leave a message and— The phone began buzzing again. He groaned. His thin sheet bunched at the foot of his futon as Saguru rolled to grab his cellphone. It was probably Aoko, probably another body found or the person they captured had died or...or it was Hiroto.

The English letters above the green phone icon gave no insight to why Hiroto would call him in the middle of the night after a month of mutual avoidance. It was curiosity that made him pick up in the end, alongside a feeling of dread; nothing good ever came out of middle of the night phone calls.

“ _Saguru?”_ Hiroto said the second the phone call connected. “ _Oh thank goodness, you picked up.”_ There was an edge of panic to his voice, and he didn’t raise it past a rough whisper. “ _Saguru—I mean Hakuba-san—I mean,”_ he took a sharp breath, and that edge of panic sounded a lot closer to the edge of hyperventilation.

“Breathe,” Saguru said, cutting through the jumbled mess of Hiroto’s words. “What’s wrong?”

 _“Sorry. Sorry for. For calling, I wasn’t sure. What to do.”_ Another inhale, less ragged. “ _I’m at work. I think I found something that I shouldn’t have. Files. I was reorganizing my boss’s files because I noticed they were a mess yesterday. There were. Locked folders, but I have the passwords for everything and. I recognized a name? From the info dump that was on the news? And some emails? I’m not supposed to touch that but I did and now I wish I didn’t because they’ll probably know and this is why I should have just kept my head down and done my job and not tried to do more than average.”_

“Hiroto.” The rapid breathing on the other end was his only response, but the babbling rush of words had stopped. “Where are you?”

 _“We do business contracting not—!”_ The words burst out through the phone speaker, the loudest so far. Hiroto breathed a bit more then answered the question, “ _The staff bathroom. I had a phone conference call tonight, but I was the only one today so I stayed late while everyone else left. It’s my first solo project since the promotion and...”_ he trailed off. “ _I’m pretty sure I’m alone. My boss has had oversea meetings this week and I’ve been taking care of some of his work here.”_

“Are you in any danger?” Obviously Hiroto felt like it or he wouldn’t be hiding in a bathroom to call Saguru, but it would help to have a bit more of a perspective.

 _“I don’t know? Would they know if the files were touched? Would they come find who did it? Am I being watched and I don’t know it?”_ He was moving back toward panic again and that wasn’t going to help anyone.

“Hiroto, give me an address and I’ll be there.”

 _“Really?_ ” Hiroto sounded so small and doubtful that Saguru felt a bit bad for ignoring his apologies as long as he had. The guilt didn’t change that he hadn’t been mentally equipped to handle it at the time though.

“Really.”  He memorized the address Hiroto told him. “Eighth floor?”

“ _Eighth floor,”_ Hiroto confirmed.

“I’ll be there soon, just keep calm in the meantime.”

Saguru left Hiroto to calm himself in the bathroom and tapped out a message to Aoko and Kudo. If this had to do with the organization, then they would need to know. _And I might need backup,_ he thought grimly.

He dragged a hand down his face. He had work in the morning. He had work and the trains were no longer running, so he’d have to take a cab, and there went another night of sleep. He got up to get a pair of goddamn pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so there is literally only one time Saguru refers to Ran out loud, and initially I had it as 'Ran-san' but deeper thought to the matter, he'd be super formal unless otherwise indicated he could be casual and so I changed it to 'Kudo-san' (and the only reason I have his thoughts be 'Ran' is because otherwise it would get very confusing very fast who Saguru was thinking about. Shinichi is 'Kudo' first in Saguru's mind, and Ran would have been 'Mouri' except she married, and yeah... >_> ) Point being, there was a single word edit a month or so ago, so if you remember reading differently, that would be why. And that's how this scene worked out. It was one that I had in mind pretty early on in this and ended up writing twice because of it. Original version no longer fit by the time I got to that part in the story. (because I have a habit of writing out of order when I get stuck) For those of you who saw Kaito/Shinichi/Ran in the past revelation coming, Yay! You picked up on the hints! I tried to not make it literally come from out of nowhere, but I honestly don't know how successful it was because there's 'subtle' and then there's 'you'd need to be in the author's brain to notice this detail' ^_^;; For those who didn't see it coming, uh, surprise???? :D But it's in the past.
> 
> That aside, now most of the excuses Saguru's brain has been supplying just got thrown out the window. He's not straight hon, take that into perspective. ^___^
> 
> Surprise, Hiroto returns! To be honest, I was surprised writing this, trying to figure out where to go when Hiroto ambushed my brain with a polite smile and a "We're not done yet"
> 
> (And holy crap guys, we're so close to the end now. o_o Thanks so much for following along with this and making my day with your comments. This has really been a great experience working on this fic because of it. Just 4 chapters (aaaand a few extras. and a prequel >_>) to go!)


	31. Chapter 31

Hiroto’s workplace was a nondescript office building with the mysterious words of Nikai Company emblazoned above the entryway in English letters, but no other indications of what the company was for or why it required a whole building to itself. From past conversations, Saguru recalled that the company worked a great deal overseas, presumably globally from the shifting hours Hiroto seemed to hold depending on conferences times. Hiroto was an intermediary of sorts, presenting ideas back and forth across language barriers if Saguru remembered correctly, but not in charge of leading ideas. That would mean access to a large number of projects with at least casual knowledge of what those projects entailed. For the life of him, Saguru couldn’t remember if Hiroto had ever mentioned what, exactly, his company’s business was. There were dozens of anecdotes about lagging Skype calls, mistranslations, and paperwork failures that came to mind, but nothing on products or anything particularly useful in having a clue about what he was walking into. Even the business card Hiroto gave him only briefly mentioned financial services. Which might or might not tie in to the business contracting Hiroto just mentioned on the phone. Saguru would have liked the chance to look the company up a bit more but he’d never thought to do so before tonight.

Surprisingly, the door was unlocked. Even more surprisingly, the front desk was currently unstaffed. Saguru eyed the bright glow of a computer screen on the other side of it. Not away long enough for the computer to go to sleep, but no sign of anyone otherwise. The security cameras blinked tiny red pinpoints of light from the corners of the ceiling. He ignored them and walked with purpose to the elevator. If he’d learned anything from Kuroba, acting like you belonged and knew what you were doing often times worked just as well as if you were actually supposed to be there.

The elevator was small and full of overly bright brass fittings that were a tasteless design choice. Saguru stopped the elevator a floor below his stop and took the stairs the rest of the way. The lights in the hallways were dim, only the emergency exit signs glowing, and a few emergency lights here and there to lead the way. The whole place had the hair rising on the back of Saguru’s neck, tripping his gut instinct that something wasn’t quite right. He couldn’t put a finger on what, aside from the missing secretary at the front desk. Nothing was out of place for an office, fake plants and real ones interspersed outside of offices to try and brighten up the atmosphere and rows of doors with name plaques on them. The only sound in the stairwell was the sound of Saguru’s footsteps interspersed with his breath, made a bit short by the exertion.

There were a few lights on in this floor, and Saguru used them as a guide, cautious. Empty office, bookshelf behind a desk with a desktop computer, screen still lit. He recognized it from a photo, the one Hiroto sent of a small child staring at him from the corner of the room. And there were childish drawings done in red and black and blue pen taped up on one wall. His boss’s office then.

The break room had one light on above the sink and a coffee pot half full with a red light showing it was still hot. The bathroom lights were off.

“Hiroto-san?” Saguru said, voice soft as he pushed open the bathroom door; it wasn’t one that locked from the inside, but was full of stalls with urinals along the one wall. No feet under the stalls, but if he held still...the sound of breathing a bit too rapid and panicky to be quiet. “It’s Saguru.”

There was a long pause before the end stall door creaked open further and Hiroto all but fell out of it. He was at Saguru’s side in an instant, grabbing his arm like it was a life preserver and he was drowning.

“You’re here,” he said. “You’re actually here thank goodness I wasn’t sure if you would actually come or if you’d make it up to this floor but you’re here and not a-a-a killer or something.”

“I know we didn’t last talk on the best of circumstances, but I wouldn’t have left you waiting if I didn’t intend to come,” Saguru said. Hiroto let out a breath and leaned against him for a moment. Saguru steadied him. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Hiroto said. He took another breath, already steadier. “Sorry. Just. A little freaked out.”

“Understandable.” When Hiroto pulled back, Saguru let his concern melt away into seriousness. “Could you show me what you found?”

“Yes. Yes just...come with me.” Hiroto darted out into the hallway, looking around sharply before leading the way back to his boss’s office. The computer screen had turned over to a screen saver, colored lines flashing across a black background.

“It’s... I put the file folders onto a flash drive, but I don’t know if that will work or if they’ll be corrupted with the number of passwords to get to them... I don’t know much about computers beyond what I need to know for work.” He clicked through files, keying in codes to bring up more and more sub-folders. Hiroto bit his lip as Saguru glanced at the folder names—dates, all of them, numbers going back years. Each year was separated into month, then by week and day, the files themselves just numbers that had no immediate meaning to Saguru’s eyes.

“How did you even find these?” It wasn’t something that you just stumbled on from the look of it.

Hiroto flushed. “I told you I was cleaning up documents right? Well I noticed that there was too much data in a file for it to be normal and so I checked to see if there were hidden files... There’s a lot of them. This is just one of them, but there’s files mixed in with regular things too. With invoices and project files.” He clicked around a bit more, showing translucent file icons amidst bold ones. “I wasn’t expecting so many. I thought...” He blushed harder. “I thought maybe they were just something inappropriate for work or something but...”

“But they weren’t.” No one would have this many hidden documents or such organized ones if it were merely pornography or something similar.

“No. Then I thought maybe my boss was skimming company funds but...” Hiroto pulled up a file. It was in English, surprisingly, bold letters listing out a date and location with a clinical report following that detailed some unfortunate person’s death.

Saguru clicked on a few more, bringing up similar reports or transferred resources, stolen research data, and results from tests that the reports assumed were already known. It was chilling. “Who has access to these files?”

“They’re only on this computer,” Hiroto said softly. “I checked a few others in my office for hidden files, but it was only my boss that had these. I don’t know about the higher ups though. The only one with passwords for this computer are my boss and me, and I only know them because I sometimes cover his work when he’s on trips.”

“And password protecting files is common practice here?”

“Only on my boss’s computer. It didn’t seem weird; he has sensitive information on the company and employees so of course he wouldn’t want just anyone looking at it...”

Saguru was only half paying attention, eyes caught on a file. May tenth of last year. Not significant, perhaps, as there were documents dated a few days before and a few after the date, but... it was the day before Mel was shot. Saguru clicked on it. _Progenetics...stolen research on project Mercury..._ Saguru’s own name stood out at him, the words _incapacitate or kill_ leaving him with a rushing sound in his ears that was probably his heartrate spiking.

“Is that...is that your name?” Hiroto whispered. “Is this a _kill order?!”_

“Or something,” Saguru said, feeling words leave him as if from a great distance. He’d looked for clues, the London police force had looked for clues for months and here this was in _Japan_ of all places and— And he didn’t have time for the emotions any of this had boiling up in him, sharp and hot and ragged. He breathed in, out. “If these files are only on this computer, it would be ideal if we could take the hard drive with us.”

“What, the whole thing?” Hiroto asked, wide eyed.

“I don’t think you quite understand the magnitude of what you just found,” Saguru said, already pulling the computer tower toward him. He had a spare flash drive that he used to hold documents for work, on his keychain. He fished it out and handed it to Hiroto. “Put as many files as you can on this, please. Delete what is already on it; there’s nothing irreplaceable and this is more important.”

“Saguru?” Hiroto said, hesitating and scared again.

“Please.” This felt like too much of a windfall after everything, too good to be true that Saguru would stumble across the order that had signed Mel’s death, albeit as collateral.  It had every instinct screaming at him that something was wrong.

“I’m going to be fired for this,” Hiroto said, mostly to himself, as he set to copying files.

Saguru started opening drawers looking for something that could be used as a screwdriver to open the back of the tower. This was not technically legal, but he couldn’t find it in him to care considering the circumstances. There was a very real chance that by the time he forwarded the information and the police got a permit, then the information could be erased. There, a small pair of scissors, the blades just wide enough to catch on the screw head.

“They’re transferring,” Hiroto said. “As much as will fit. Um, I included the file you were looking at.”

“Thank you.” Saguru handed Hiroto his phone and went at the screws. “Please text that incriminating documents were found and that I am in the process of trying to secure the hard drive to contacts ‘Aoko’ and ‘Kudo.’”

A light in the hallway flicked on. They both froze, two screws in Saguru’s hand and Hiroto’s fingers white knuckled around Saguru’s cell phone as a man stood in the doorway.

“I had such high hopes for you, Nakahara-kun,” the man said. He was dressed in a neatly pressed business suit, hair combed back from his face, and a semi-automatic pistol in hand.

“Hanaka-kacho...” Hiroto trembled.

Saguru gripped the scissors in the palm of his hand as Hiroto’s boss walked further into the room.

“I give you my trust and you look through my personal files.” His eyes flicked to Saguru. “And you try to steal them. The company has a pretty strict policy about that sort of thing.” Hanaka spoke like he was having a friendly chat, but there was no hesitation in his steady aim at Hiroto’s chest.

“Strict as in an early grave I take it,” Saguru said, dry and caustic.

The man turned toward him and his business neutral expression flickered to one of distaste. “The British detective. For someone supposedly retired, you seem to have your hand in a bit of everything at the moment.”

“Retirement never seems to stick,” Saguru said. “The world seems to enjoy throwing me into situations where certain skillsets I have are required.” It was strange, the lack of panic he felt at the moment. Considering how recently Takumi had almost been shot and Kuroba had been shot, staring down a man with a gun should have his heart hammering and his hands shaking. Instead, he’d never felt steadier. The scissors were reassuringly heavy in his hand.

“You’d have a much more peaceful and long life if you just learned to mind your own business.” Hanaka looked back at Hiroto. Hiroto was shaking so badly it looked like he was going to fall over in a faint. “I could say the same for you. Your work was good. It will be difficult to replace you.”

The man’s eyes shuttered, closing off in a way Saguru recognized intimately of a person steeling themselves for an unpleasant task. Saguru shifted, pulling attention away from Hiroto before the trigger could be pulled, desperate to keep him talking just that bit longer, to lower his guard, something. “No one even realizes yet that this company is related to the others from the info drop, do they?” Saguru said, because it was true. Who would suspect it as it wasn’t a cosmetics company, wasn’t connected to pharmaceuticals or chemical research or longevity research at all. At what little he’d gleaned from glancing at files, it was a company that worked as a go between, an international link up, the middle man for many other countries venturing into overseas trade, and as such had a hand in a little bit of everything, but not so much so that it would stand out. It would be the perfect sort of place to use seeding agents globally though. A hub in a branching web, the communication core connecting all the other branches with each other yet safe if any one of them fall. Because they didn’t have stake in the race for immortality. Perhaps managing behind the scenes and picking off any perceived threats. No one would look to a supposedly unrelated company if someone died investigating a different one.

Like Mel. Like Saguru was shot years ago. Kill or injure and generally make it too expensive one way or another to look any deeper into the matter.

Hanaka gave Saguru another once over, eyes lingering on the scissors and the cane just out of reach where Saguru'd leaned it against the desk, dismissing them as a threat—too much distance when a bullet could kill him before he had a chance to complete a lunge.

Saguru took another steady breath. “No one realizes how much your company is involved in at all. Is it just this organization you have ties with?” He tilted his head, moving just a bit to the side...get attention on him, Hiroto out of peripheral vision, _get the gun on him._ “You must have a lot of people coming and going from Japan. How many of those people are office workers, Hanaka-san? And how many of those are killers?”

“You’d like if I answered that, wouldn’t you?” Hanaka said. “Laid out all the messy details like some kind of cartoon villain.” He scoffed. “The only reason you’re not already dead is because I don’t want blood on my carpet.”

 _Yes, actually, that would be very convenient,_ Saguru thought a bit sarcastically. “I imagine it would be equally incriminating to shoot us in a stairwell or somewhere else that blood will get everywhere.”

“But then it would be someone else’s problem,” Hanaka said, eyes half-lidded and dangerous. “And I’m not even back in the country yet; I’m not due back until tomorrow.”

“I’m sure the security cameras would be surprised about that revelation.”

Hanaka frowned and jerked the gun in Saguru’s direction. “Stand up. Both of you walk toward the door.”

Saguru made a show of complying very slowly, playing up how stiff his knee was and the need for a cane he was too far from to grab. It kept Hanaka’s eyes on him right up until Hiroto’s shaking legs gave out and he crashed to the ground.

“Sor-I’m, I’m getting up I’ll just—” Hiroto babbled, hands grabbing at the desk to pull himself up. Saguru caught a glimpse of his hand swinging past the flash drives and as one vanished into Hiroto’s mess of flailing, he realized what Hiroto was doing.

“Pull yourself together, Nakahara-kun,” Hanaka said, exasperated and missing the act completely. “Try to face your death with more dignity; I know you’re not that pathetic. If you can handle closing a deal with a Russian oil company, you can handle having a gun in your face.”

“Being shot is a bit more final than failing to negotiate a business deal.” Saguru helped Hiroto to his feet, blocking him from view long enough for him to slip the flash drives into his pocket. He still had Saguru’s phone too, hand clutched so tight around it that it was a miracle the screen hadn’t fractured. In the second their eyes met, Hiroto’s gaze held a mix of terror and determination.

“You would know, wouldn’t you, detective?” Hanaka drawled. He nodded to the door. “Go.”

There was no moment that Saguru could take advantage of and try to turn the situation around—Hanaka made sure to keep his distance and his weapon at the ready. That said, Saguru wasn’t sure he could have subdued him even if there had been an opening. Saguru still had Judo skills, but those required a more solid stance than he had most days. And despite being taller than Hanaka and outweighing him, the cut of Hanaka’s suit hinted at a fit body; he probably would have been able to overpower Saguru anyway. It would be worth it anyway to get the gun from him, but with the distance, Hanaka would shoot and probably hit one of them before Saguru could hit him. Hiroto filed out first. Saguru was the one that had the gun pointed at him now, right between his shoulder blades.

“Planning to take us to the roof?”

“Why would I do that when there’s such a fitting scenario that could take place already?” Hanaka herded them toward the bathroom. “I’d heard a few rumors that you were seen in Shinjuku Ni-chōme, Nakahara-kun. I admit I’d wondered about you a few times, you confirmed you were interested in men when I gave you a bit more...singled out attention.” Hiroto went that much paler. Saguru wondered what those interactions must have been. “And here we have a detective known to be gay. It creates such a perfect story, don’t you think? A lover’s spat gone wrong after hours.”

Scarily, considering his and Hiroto’s history, that was a believable scenario.

“And of course Nakahara-kun is so distraught at how things went that he takes his life.” Hanaka smiled like a wolf, all teeth and promise of death. “Murder suicide. A far more poetic death than either of you deserves.”

Hiroto’s breath hitched toward hyperventilation.

As Hiroto pushed open the bathroom door, Saguru realized that this was the only chance he’d get; there was no escaping once they were all in the bathroom. As the door started to shut, he stumbled, playing on his bad leg to make it realistic.

“Just get in the—” Hanaka said, but he didn’t have a chance to finish as Saguru turned the stumble into a blind dive in his direction.

 _Please don’t be shot,_ he thought, _please let Hiroto be smart enough to get away from the door._ The gun went off as Saguru collided with Hanaka’s knees, and either he’d missed or Saguru had too much adrenaline in his system to feel pain at the moment. As the gun moved down and Hanaka’s face contorted with a snarl Saguru’s ringing ears failed to hear, Saguru stabbed blindly with the scissors he’d palmed earlier.

They sunk into the meat of Hanaka’s thigh, jerking free when he staggered back, yelling. The hand with the gun hit Saguru in the forehead, cutting above his eyebrow. Saguru stabbed again, got a glancing blow to Hanaka’s hand, and the gun clattered to the ground, miraculously not going off a second time. Saguru managed to kick it toward the potted plant down the hall before he was tackled. The scissors skidded off somewhere as a blood-slick hand grappled at his throat, trying to choke him.

A twist, fail to throw him off. An elbow to the gut and Saguru could breathe again for a moment. There was blood in his eye, couldn’t see, bared teeth set in a snarl centimeters from his face. Saguru caught his assailant’s wrists before fingers could dig into his throat again, struggled to shift balance and overpower his opponent like he’d learned, knee aching, aching and a grown man’s weight trying to pin him down.

Hanaka jerked with a sudden force, smacking down and almost head-butting Saguru in the process. Another dull force sounded above him and Hanaka went limp. Saguru pushed him off to find Hiroto standing over them with a plastic toilet seat gripped in white knuckled hands.

Hanaka groaned, only half unconscious from the blows to his head. Before he could recover, Saguru ripped Hanaka’s tie free and used it to tie his hands behind his back. Only then did he sit back, panting. There was blood streaked all over the tile floor between Saguru’s head wound and Hanaka’s stab wounds.

“Fuck,” Saguru said with feeling.

“You’re not dead,” Hiroto said, dropping the toilet seat and sliding to the ground as his knees gave out. He started giggling, head in his hands. “We’re not dead.”

“Surprisingly,” Saguru agreed. Head wounds bled too much. His sleeve wasn’t making much headway in stemming the flow. “A toilet seat?”

“It’s the sturdiest thing in the bathroom I could pry free,” Hiroto said. He grabbed Saguru in a sudden, tight hug and kissed him. “We’re not dead!”

“Um.” Saguru blinked as he was released as quickly as he’d been grabbed. Hopefully that was just relief acting and not Hiroto actually still being interested. He pressed his handkerchief to his head. “Do you have my phone still?”

“Yeah,” Hiroto said, giggling petering out. “I called...uh. Somebody. I didn’t hang up either.” He held up the phone where a counter showed a call connected to Aoko that had been going for the last seven minutes. Had it only been less than ten minutes? It felt much longer.

Saguru took the phone from Hiroto. “Aoko.”

 _“What the fuck is going on over there, Hakuba?”_ Aoko asked. “ _There was a gunshot and screaming and just now there was laughter.”_

“It seems that there is organization involvement at the address I texted you after all. There is a suspect with stab wounds who had possession of a gun and I have a head wound. I am not sure if there is anyone else to worry about or not. The suspect is currently incapacitated however.”

Hiroto sat up, looking around like he expected someone to manifest from the potted plant with a gun.

 _“Wonderful,”_ Aoko grumbled. “ _Stay where you are, I was already on my way over. I got a search warrant pushed through fast. That’s the only reason I’m not there already.”_

“You got a search warrant in the middle of the night?”

“ _You underestimate just how much the police wants to get this internal investigation over with. If there’s even a hint of it being connected, papers are going through no matter where and when.”_

“Ah.” The pain was catching up with him, knees and shoulders and hips aching from landing on them and his neck where Hanaka had bruised and scratched, and the throbbing point of pain on his brow where the blood was finally slowing.

 _“Secure the weapon and the suspect, but don’t contaminate the scene any more than needed,”_ Aoko said.

“Of course. There’s a witness with me, the one who sent the tip.”

“ _Got it. I’m going to call in an ambulance as well.”_

“Thank you, Aoko.”

 _“Don’t die in the meantime,”_ she said. They didn’t hang up, but Saguru set the phone down, all the focus and abnormal calm that had filled him draining away. It just left exhaustion and pain in its wake.

“Are you hurt?” Saguru asked Hiroto.

“No.” Hiroto tried to smile but stopped when it wouldn’t quite form. “No, you did a good job keeping him away from me.”

“Good. Good thinking with the flash drives.”

“That’s the most terrified I’ve been in my life.” Hiroto stared blankly at his boss. “Well. I guess if I can face down a man with a gun, going to job interviews when I lose my job won’t be scary at all.”

“You might not lose your job.”

“They’re going to tear the company apart looking into what is and isn’t legal business deals,” Hiroto said. He sounded pretty calm about it, but as he said, it wasn’t as scary as having a gun pointed at you. “There might not be a company left after this. I’d probably be better off leaving tomorrow if I can and figuring out things from there.”

Well. There wasn’t really anything Saguru could say about that.  Hanaka groaned again staring blearily around at them before squeezing his eyes shut. He might have a concussion. Saguru couldn’t bring himself to care much when he’d almost been killed a few minutes earlier. He did have to wonder what the man’s motives were. He had family, an ideal work life for all appearances. What had drawn him to the world’s underbelly?

After a few moments, Saguru managed to drag himself up and shove an upended trash bin over the gun so it wasn’t as easily accessible. He wasn’t sure what to say to Hiroto to make any of this better. They were alive, at least. They were alive, and they’d gotten files enough that would hopefully sink the organization the rest of the way. Files that would solve cold cases and give closure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shock, actual action happened! Part of me likes writing action scenes. The other part of me always goes "Logistics? Pacing? You couldn't fight your way out of a paper bag????" I guess scissors beats gun this round >_>


	32. Chapter 32

Aoko showed up with a team of officers with guns at the ready, securing the area before she even approached Saguru. There were a pair of paramedics with them, and one went to Hanaka even as another followed Aoko to look at Saguru.

“There was a woman in possession of a gun trying to leave the area when we got here,” Aoko said, explaining the high alert. “Speaking of guns...”

Saguru pointed to the trash can he was sitting on. “Under the can. It seemed the best way to keep anything from being set off accidentally.”

Aoko let out an explosive breath. “You don’t do anything by halves do you?”

“Sadly, no.” Saguru held still as the paramedic tilted his face this way and that. “That’s the only open wound,” he said—the cut had stopped bleeding finally, but it stung and oozed when the paramedic started to clean it out. “I have bruises, but no other serious injury.”

“What the hell were you thinking coming here on your own?” Aoko sighed. “You should have waited.”

“It’s a good thing I didn’t. Hiroto would have been dead and no doubt all the evidence would have been erased.”

Aoko grimaced. “Still. What is it with stupid men and running straight into danger?”

“Perhaps it’s a testosterone thing,” Saguru said drily.

Aoko gave him a glare that said she’d smack him upside the head if he didn’t already have a head wound.

“The stab wounds on the suspect were me,” Saguru said, changing the subject. “Given in self-defense. They were inflicted with a pair of scissors from the suspect’s desk.”

“Unusually brutal of you.”

“I didn’t have much to work with between being held at gunpoint and having someone else to worry about.”

Aoko waved a hand. “It was self-defense.  Considering he had a gun, it should hold up in court.”

“This should be fine with a bandage,” the paramedic cut in, taping a bit of gauze to Saguru’s forehead. “It might scar a bit though and you’ll want to get a blood test with both of you bleeding all over.”

Saguru winced. He truly hoped there were no blood borne pathogens coming out of this. “Thank you. Um, if someone could see to Hiroto? He isn’t used to this sort of situation.”

“A friend of yours?” Aoko asked as the paramedic moved on to Hiroto.

“Ah, I suppose, yes.” That was the simplest explanation. “Someone I went on a few dates with shortly before the press callout outed me,” he admitted.

“Huh.” Aoko looked over at Hiroto. “Doesn’t seem like your type.”

Part of him wanted to ask what she thought was his type, while the rest of him felt a bit embarrassed since she probably saw right through his interactions with Kuroba from the start. Instead, he said, “He knocked the suspect out with a toilet seat.”

Aoko laughed, a short, surprised burst of sound and looked Hiroto over again. “Okay, so maybe there’s more to him than he looks then. He found the files?”

“Yes. He has two flash drives, but the computer with all the files is in that office.”

“Right.” Aoko put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay. Now I’m going to go do my job. My partner will be around to take your statement.”

“Of course.” Saguru watched her go and felt like he was seeing the crime scene through a glass window, separate and distanced. He still hadn’t panicked. His hands were steady and even though everything hurt, it was pain from action, not his knee hurting from mental stress. It was like he’d gone around stress and traumatic triggers and come out unfazed by things that should have rightly sent him back around the bend again. Perhaps it was a delay. It would hit later and he’d be blindsided by it.

He almost died, found proof of Mel’s killer, and had stabbed a man and it wasn’t even five in the morning yet. What would Kuroba say?

Actually, thinking of Kuroba, he should make it clear to Hiroto where things stood there. It felt a bit like he’d gone behind Kuroba’s back even though there wasn’t anything happening there at all.

***

It was almost seven by the time Saguru and Hiroto left the office building. Aoko and her team were still working and would be for who knew how long. The sun was up and the air was already filling with early September heat. They made a picture, Saguru’s blood-stained clothing covered up by a jacket an officer had been polite enough to lend him, and Hiroto curled around himself still though the shock had worn off a bit.

“I have to be at work in an hour,” Saguru said as they made their slow way toward the train station, extremely grateful to have his cane back.

“I don’t know if I’ll have work again,” Hiroto said with a nervous laugh that fell flat. “This still doesn’t feel real.”

“Do you have anyone you can go stay with? So you’re not alone?”

“Maybe. I used to go to Emi when things were bad, but since the article...”

Emi must be the reporter then. The world was a boulder on their shoulders today. “If there is anyone, go to them. Family or friends, somewhere you feel safe.” When your world was uprooted it was hard to feel safe and you felt better if you weren’t alone. “It helps.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Hiroto said, tired. “Sorry about earlier,” he said, broaching the topic before Saguru could think of a way to transition to it. “I know you’re not interested in that anymore. It was mostly being so relieved we were alive.”

“I understand that.” Saguru shrugged wearily. There was a stream of people coming and going from the train station and they joined the mass, easily overlooked in the press of bodies. Before they could go their separate ways, they moved to the side to finish their conversation. “Actually, I want to say that I am interested in someone at the moment...”

“Your neighbor, right?” Hiroto said with a wan smile.

Saguru sighed. Apparently he was just that obvious to everyone then. “Yes.”

“I had the feeling.” Hiroto shrugged. “From some of the things you said, it doesn’t sound like he’d be uninterested. Not if he seeks you out all the time.”

“Hm, I suppose we’ll see.” That was as close as he’d come to admitting he intended to do anything about his crush on Kuroba to someone else.

“Friends?” Hiroto said. “Can we be after everything?”

Saguru found he meant it when he said, “I think I would like to try.”

Hiroto smiled. He was pale and drawn and looked like he needed to sleep for a week but the expression was genuine. He’d been genuine in all their exchanges and he was someone Saguru would like to have as a friend if they could manage it without feeling too awkward. “I’ll see you sometime then,” Hiroto said, and he left. He’d be alright, Saguru thought. Nakahara Hiroto was stronger than he first appeared.

That left Saguru to get ready for work in a short amount of time and running on too little sleep. He would be alright too though. They’d lived; tackling another work day wasn’t near so hard.

***

Saguru broke and bought coffee. He hated coffee, but sometimes tea just wasn’t strong enough caffeine to jump start his brain when it was smothered with the haze of exhaustion. He staggered into work with all his necessary papers and as impeccably dressed as ever though. He might feel like hell, but he still had to make an effort.

Kate took one look at him and got more coffee from the staff pot. “You look like you didn’t go to bed last night,” she said, taking Saguru’s empty can of coffee and putting a chipped mug in its place.

Saguru barely grimaced at the taste of black coffee. He preferred it with sugar and cream but he was past the point of taste at the moment. “Thank you, Takata-san. And I did. Unfortunately I had something that needed taken care of in the middle of the night.”

“Did it involve falling head first into something?” Kate asked, eying the bandage on his forehead. “Because that must be pretty bad considering it’s taking up half your forehead.”

“It involved the police and a case under investigation and an angry individual with a weapon and I’m afraid that’s all I am at liberty to say.”

“You live an interesting life,” Kate said.

Saguru laughed, because wasn’t _that_ an understatement. “Long story short, I only got a few hours of sleep last night.” Besides nearly dying. But he didn’t need to tell her that. “The cut on my head isn’t that bad or I’d have been told to get stitches. I have a horrible headache though.”

“Want ibuprofen?”

“Already took a painkiller, but thank you. How was your evening yesterday?”

“Unless you count a child having a meltdown over breaking the head off an action figure, completely uneventful.” She grinned. “We can’t all have action movie moments interrupt our lives.”

“Consider me envious,” Saguru said, though they both knew he was mostly joking. He didn’t dislike the life he had despite occasional stresses.

“Hey,” Uemoto Arisa said, cutting into their conversation. She had a phone in hand and held it out to show a young woman with a baby grinning at the camera. “Yumi-san sent more photos.” She shot Saguru a quick smile, most of her attention on Kate. “She looks happy. I think it’s a little crazy that she’s planning to come back next year when she could be spending time with her kid, but that’s Yumi for you. She misses the job.”

“She’s coming back?” Kate asked. “For sure?” She glanced at Saguru and it took his exhausted brain an embarrassingly long moment to realize why she didn’t look as happy as he’d expect her to look when her friend was coming back.

Right. He was in her job. And if she was coming back, that meant that the administration planned on letting him go.

Uemoto caught the look and glanced at Saguru too. “Ah, yeah... She said she talked to the higher ups already...” There was an awkward silence.

Saguru put on a slightly forced smile. “Well, the literature club is going to be happy about that. I know they’ve missed her. And so have most of the staff.”

“That doesn’t mean we won’t miss you,” Kate said immediately.

His smile was a little more genuine at that. She had been a friend from day one to him and he truly appreciated that. “And I’ve enjoyed teaching here. Still, it was only supposed to be temporarily filling in for Yumi-san from the start.” And the board would no doubt breathe a quiet breath of relief that they could wash their hands of him without any further scandal.

Shizume Erika took that moment to come over. “You’re leaving? You’ve only been here a year.”

“It wouldn’t really be up to him,” Kate said. “If Yumi’s coming back...”

“Then he just can’t keep Yumi’s position,” Erika said. “Saguru-kun, you’re qualified to teach something other than English, correct?”

“I taught Chemistry in London.”

“Then it’s simple; you can get a job teaching sciences. I know Junichiro who teaches the third year sciences is retiring, you can apply for his position when it comes open.” She smiled. “We can always put in a word for you too.”

“Yeah!” Kate chirped, looking a lot happier now that it seemed possible Saguru could stay. “If a few of us recommend you for the position they’re sure to take it into consideration. And you’ve done fine as a teacher. They can’t complain about your work ethic.”

“But that won’t stop them complaining about other things.”

The fallout from his being outed hung in the air, unacknowledged. Erika lifted her chin stubbornly. “We can make it work. And we can always collect some character recommendations too. It’s not like you don’t have connections and friends here.”

“Thank you,” Saguru said, touched. “I’d like to stay here.” He’d just have to see if he could. With staff support and his experience they wouldn’t have much excuse to turn him away. And if he didn’t get hired...there were other schools nearby. He could make this work. “Truly, thank you.”

“What are friends for?” Kate said, grinning. “Now come look at baby photos before we have to be serious, professional adults.”

Saguru sipped at too bitter coffee and smiled at pictures of a woman and child he’d never met but felt like he knew already. He could let himself worry over the future on a day he wasn’t exhausted, but for now he’d take the little moments.

***

“Good news,” Kuroba said to Saguru the moment he stepped in his room. Kuroba had jeans and a t-shirt on for the first time Saguru had seen in weeks, one pant leg slashed so his leg brace could fit properly. “Aoko called and said that lady they picked up turned out to be someone watching your apartment. Which means you no longer have a watcher.” He shuffled papers at his bedtable, putting them in order and brimming with energy like he had been before the heist. “So,” Kuroba continued, “that means I finally get to go home!” He grinned, twirling a loose pen around in his fingers. “Don’t get me wrong, the Kudos are good people and their kids are great, but I am going to go crazy if I don’t have my own space again.”

“That’s great news,” Saguru said. He was caught off guard as Kuroba spontaneously grabbed his hand before giving them both a twirl and dumping the papers into Saguru’s arms.

“I’m leaving tonight and sleeping in my own bed no matter what Haibara says. I will crawl out a window if need be.”

“Don’t crawl out a window, your ribs are only just healed.”

“I won’t crawl out a window,” Kaito said, “because you’re going to help me pack and leave okay?”

“Okay.” Saguru couldn’t help smiling a little as Kuroba started humming. He was exhausted and still ached from that morning, but seeing Kuroba’s enthusiasm made him feel a bit more energetic himself.  “What all do you need to get?”

“Mm, some clothes you and my mom brought, a few books, the remnants of my Kid uniform, and probably anything you’ve left here unless you plan on staying over more?” He glanced over his shoulder, hands working at folding pairs of socks Chikage must have brought over.

“I was mainly spending the night to be closer to you,” Saguru admitted.

“Cool, so you won’t mind moving back. Now where is the bag Kaa-san left—ah, there it is.” Clothes thumped to the bottom of it, quickly followed by a few things Saguru recognized from Kid’s pockets—a deck of cards, a scarf, and a trio of smoke pellets. “So your kinda-sorta date-friend was working for a corrupt company. Small world.”

“Just a friend,” Saguru said. He added the papers to Kuroba’s bag and sat as Kuroba flitted from one side of the room to the other, pulling various items out of seemingly random places, like under the left top corner of the mattress. “I knew he worked with an international clientele, but even he didn’t realize what was going on until this morning.”

“I can’t believe we missed that place. Is your head okay?”

“It’s not a bad injury. And it’s still not clear how they’re connected; they could just be a hiring group for assassins or an unaffiliated hub, but considering their reactions, it’s probable that they are involved.” Kuroba tossed books he’d borrowed from Saguru into the bag. He looked intent on his task, but Saguru knew he was paying close attention. “There was a file that looked like it was connected to Mel’s death,” Saguru said and Kuroba paused to look up, knowing how much that meant to him. “It might just be the last piece needed to solve the case.”

“That’s great.” Kuroba set a hand on Saguru’s shoulder. “I hope it solves it.”

“Closure,” Saguru said, “would be nice.” He’d reached acceptance, gone through all the stages of grief, and come out the other end. It would always hurt, and he’d always miss Mel, but he was healing and feeling and living again and that was okay. Saguru leaned into Kuroba’s touch, forehead pressed against his stomach as Kuroba adjusted to a half hug instead of merely touching him. “Really, truly nice.” Kuroba smelled like fabric softener and ointment. Saguru could fall asleep, just like this.

Kuroba rubbed his hand along Saguru’s back. It was slow and soothing and Saguru really _could_ fall asleep if he let himself.

“Kuroba?”

“Hmm?” He could feel Kuroba’s chest vibrate with an acknowledging hum. Saguru didn’t want to move, but he needed to see his face for this. He pulled back reluctantly. Kuroba raised an eyebrow.

“I feel the need to say this now because I don’t want to regret not saying anything.” He’d almost died today. He’d possibly gained closure and almost died, but he’d lived and tomorrow they would go back to being neighbors again. Kuroba waited patiently for him to find the right words. “You are important to me,” he said, feeling each word roll about in his mind before he let it pass his lips. “I care for you more deeply than I thought I’d be able to care for anyone again. You’ve brought the best in me out again and helped me live instead of just existing.” Saguru couldn’t look away from Kuroba’s face, didn’t dare read into its stillness. “You’ve been a friend when I needed one most and I think I’m falling in love with you.” Had fallen, still was falling, and love remained too deep a word for him to say casually. He felt both terrified for using it and at peace because it was finally out in the open. “I’m not going anywhere no matter how you feel in return. I’m here to stay if you’ll have me.”

“Hakuba...”

“I know being direct isn’t as much the done thing in Japan but I feel there have been mixed signals—”

“Hakuba.” Kuroba put a hand over his mouth before he could start nervously spewing words and possibly make everything worse. There was a smile growing on Kuroba’s face. “Saguru.” And Saguru’s eyes widened at the use of his first name. “I have been flirting with you on and off for months,” Kuroba said. “If anything, I think I was getting a hell of a lot more mixed signals from you.”

“Oh.”

Kuroba snickered and Saguru found his face smashed against Kuroba’s stomach again as he was pulled into a hug. “Y’know with how many times you emphasized being friends, and the whole dating thing, I really didn’t think you were interested.”

“I thought you were straight,” Saguru said, muffled.

“Yeah, I got that when you were surprised about Kudo.” Kuroba let up enough so Saguru could blink up at him dazed and not quite sure that this wasn’t just a dream and he’d dozed off in Kuroba’s chair or something while his sleep deprived brain played havoc. “I didn’t want to be direct and make the first move because you were grieving. And we both needed a friend more than a date.” And then Kuroba’s face was right in front of his and he was lost in his blue eyes and wide smile. “As for if I’d have you; Saguru, I invited you into my apartment. You went on a family outing with me and my son. You’ve seen my job and met my friends and literally saved my life. I think it’s safe to say you’re already a fixture and I want you there. For someone so smart, you’re pretty slow at getting you’re wanted.”

“There have been a lot of people that don’t want me around.”

“There have been a lot of people that feel the same to me, but you’re not one of them and vice versa.” Kuroba dipped closer, brushing their noses together. Saguru stopped breathing. “So, can I kiss you or are you too overloaded right now?”

_“Yes_ ,” Saguru hissed, air rushing back into his lungs. He didn’t wait for Kuroba to initiate it, but pressed into the last breath of space to meet him. He could feel Kuroba trying not to laugh, his lips stretched in a smile before he tilted his head and kissed back. Saguru felt his hands settle on Kuroba’s hips, and the moment Kuroba slid a hand up to rest on the back of his neck. It was a chaste kiss, but it lingered, turning into two, three, four shorter presses of lips as they breathed shared air.

“All good?” Kuroba asked, resting his forehead against Saguru’s.

“Yes.” If this turned out to be a dream, he would be very disappointed. But even his subconscious couldn’t make up Kuroba looking this fondly at him. Saguru touched the edge of Kuroba’s smile just because he could. Kuroba tilted his face into the touch like he had the other time Saguru dared to touch his face. _I love him_ , Saguru thought and thinking it didn’t come alongside fear or guilt.

Kuroba gave him one last kiss on the nose that had Saguru cross eyed from surprise before he pulled away. “Now, Detective, I think we have a bit more packing to do before you take me home.”

“Right.” Saguru pulled himself together, a smile almost as wide as Kuroba’s slowly spreading across his face. “What else do you need?”

“Get my Kid stuff from Kudo if he kept any of it? I think I can get the rest.”

“I can do that.” He moved for the door, paused, and went back to give Kuroba another kiss. Kuroba was laughing for this one too. “Thank you,” Saguru said against his lips before hurrying to find Kudo. It was funny how a kiss could make all the exhaustion and aches melt away for the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, right???


	33. Chapter 33

“You’re smiling,” Kudo said. “And peppy. You looked like you were going to fall over when you got here.”

“Am I?” Saguru tried to reign in his outward expression of happiness into something closer to his usual self, but it was hopeless; he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. “Kuroba wanted to know if there was anything left from his Kid costume to take home.”

“Ai’s giving him the green light?”

“I think he’s more or less given himself permission,” Saguru said, amused in spite of himself. “Aoko caught the person stalking home this morning.”

“Huh.” Kudo gave him a piercing look. “I hope he wasn’t planning on leaving without saying goodbye.”

“I’m sure he has every intention of saying goodbye in as grand a way as possible,” Saguru said drily. Kuroba had enough mobility back that he could pull off something dramatic.

Kudo rolled his eyes. “Of course.” He went over to his office safe, opening with a practiced flicker of fingers. “I put his things in here just in case. Since they had his blood on them I figured he probably would want to dispose of them himself...” He took out the shredded remains of Kid’s white suit, slit up the sides from where they’d pried Kuroba out of it, the bulletproof vest, the blue shirt and red tie, shoes, and hat following. The glider material was there, jagged holes in Kid’s cape where the poles had pierced through it, but the frame itself must have been dismantled and disposed of.

Saguru’s happiness was dimmed by the bloodstains soaked into the white cloth. It told a story just as clearly as Kuroba’s body did. “Thank you,” Saguru said.

“No problem,” Kudo said. He set a bag on top of the pile. “These are the contents of his pockets. Well, everything he hasn’t taken back yet.”

Of course Kuroba would have found the safe and opened it by now. It truly wouldn’t be Kuroba if he hadn’t. A glance showed a good number of sleeping gas and smoke pellets. “Hopefully he won’t have a reason to use most of this anymore.”

“Ugh,” Kudo said, “I hope not. The number of times I’ve been gassed is ridiculous. He has to have been changing the formula over the years because we’d all be resistant to it by now.”

“He would have to.” Everything bundled up neatly and he gave Kudo a friendly nod. Funny how he went into things not liking the man very much, but was coming out something like friends with him. “I shouldn’t have much reason to use your guest room anymore. I do plan to keep in touch though and updated with the case. Thank you for letting me stay as long as you have.”

“It’s not like there wasn’t space,” Kudo said with a lopsided smile. “It’s always nice to have a second pair of eyes and someone to bounce ideas off of who can follow where my brain’s at.”

Saguru returned the smile. “Best of luck with the case.”

“Good luck with looking after Kid. He’s going to be bouncing off the walls from being stir crazy.”

“I’ll manage.” He saw Kudo’s eyes narrow just the slightest bit and knew he was drawing conclusions on where Saguru would be staying and the status of his and Kuroba’s relationship. Oh well, it wasn’t as if the majority of their acquaintances didn’t already think something was going on already by this point. “And now I’m going to collect Kuroba before he overexerts himself out of sheer joy of freedom.”

Kudo snorted. “Take care, Hakuba.”

***

Saguru woke up for the first time in most of a month to the sounds of Kuroba moving about in his apartment. A television playing and the rush of running water. It was before his alarm was set to go off but Saguru didn’t even mind. He levered himself to his feet and made two cups of tea before heading to Kuroba’s door just because he could.

Kuroba answered his knock, grinning when he saw him. “Morning!”

“Good morning. Care for a cup of tea?”

“I’ll take it. I just put rice and soup on for breakfast; it’ll be ready in a bit.” Kuroba gave him a peck on the cheek and took one cup from him like they did this every day. That...Saguru could get used to that. He could get used to having someone in the mornings to talk to and eating meals together regularly. Perhaps eventually he could get used to falling asleep next to someone again and having them there when he woke up in the morning. He hoped they could be that someday.

Kuroba couldn’t have been awake for long, but the apartment was already showing signs of life again, Kid’s hat resting on the coffee table next to some papers, the stack of books he’d had at Kudo’s set on the bookshelf, and a month’s worth of mail piled up on the kitchen table.

“Slipped my mind to ask you to get that,” Kuroba said. “I’m going to be in trouble with a few bills being late, but eh, that’s not too big a deal in the long run.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, but how is your work taking your leave of absence?”

“Remarkably ok. It helps that Haibara wrote up a doctor letter to give me a legitimate leave of absence. I should be okay to go in by Monday though.”

“Do you think the museum is under watch?”

Kuroba shrugged. “If it is, not much I can do about it. I am a legitimate employee there though, so it isn’t weird for me to be coming and going. Now getting Pandora from its hiding place at the Beika museum on the other hand might take a bit of planning. But it isn’t time sensitive.”

“And then Kid retires.”

“And then Kid retires,” Kuroba echoed, lifting his tea in a mock toast. “Although I’ll probably have to negotiate something with Aoko on testifying in court. I’m pretty sure that someone could argue amnesty with the proof I brought up and considering everything I steal is usually returned. I bet it could be whittled down to a fine if they’re really trying.”

“So you will testify?”

“If I have to,” Kuroba said, dead serious. “I’ll take jail time if it means I’ve truly wiped out the people who killed my dad.”

It was a bit too heavy to think about over breakfast, especially with the new, fluttery reality of what was growing between them. Saguru sipped at his tea. “I hope you don’t have to,” he said finally.

“Same.” Kuroba waved a hand, pushing the gloom away. “Buuuut, there’s always that witness protection angle. Either way, won’t be an issue until they go from making arrests to putting people on trial. For now I’m going to enjoy the peace.”

“What on earth are you going to do with your free time?” Saguru asked, both joking and truly wondering.

“Hell if I know. Maybe I’ll get a new hobby.”

There were so many things Kuroba dabbled in already that it would be interesting to see what that new hobby might be. “I’m sure you’ll find something.”

“Mm.” Kuroba smirked over the rim of his mug. “Although I do know one thing I’d like to do.”

“And that is?” Saguru asked, eying Kuroba’s expression warily.

“Take you on a date.”

Saguru took too big a mouthful of tea and almost choked on it, face hot. “I have no objections,” he said after swallowing.

“Any preferences?”

“So long as I’m with you I think I’ll enjoy it.”

Kuroba kept up the salacious smirk a moment longer before he cracked up. “That’s the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said.”

“I meant it,” Saguru mumbled, ears red.

“I know.” Kuroba’s socked foot brushed his leg under the table. “It’s cute.”

“Are you going to do this all the time?” Saguru asked, still blushing. He wouldn’t be this easily flustered for long, not once the newness of it had passed, but he couldn’t really see Kuroba purposely flustering him all the time either.

“Not all the time. I just want to see you blush right now.” The miso soup was done and the rice cooker had finished its cycle. Kuroba rose to get bowls and Saguru stood to help him. The help wasn’t really needed; the brace on Kuroba’s leg supported it well enough, but Kuroba didn’t seem to mind it. He passed bowls of soup to Saguru before carrying the rice over himself. A dish of pickles and cold marinated tofu joined it on the table. “I was feeling something more traditional today,” Kuroba said.

“And of course you aren’t going to eat braised fish,” Saguru said.

Kuroba gave him a dirty look.

Saguru grinned back. Finding out how much Kuroba disliked fish was forever an amusing discovery that he intended to keep in mind in case he ever needed to keep something from Kuroba’s natural curiosity. All it would take would be a fish printed box.

They talked a bit more over breakfast, nothing important for once, just light conversation about Saguru’s work or the books they’d both read, and by the time they were done and Saguru was helping clean the dishes, he knew they needed to do this again.

“Come over for dinner,” Kuroba said at almost the same moment Saguru said, “Tomorrow I’ll make breakfast.”

They looked at each other a second before Kuroba laughed. “Sure, breakfast at your place tomorrow.”

“And I’d love to have dinner with you.”

“Good.” Kuroba cupped his cheek with a sudsy hand and pulled him in for a light kiss. It was just as dizzying as their first kiss had been. “Now, based off the time, you have just enough time to get your things and get dressed before work.”

“Damn work,” Saguru said, but he pulled back. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“Any time. If you have a chance, tell Takumi I’m home and almost on the mend.”

“I will.” He kissed Kuroba one more time. He had a feeling that was going to become something of a habit.

***

Aoko’s home was the same as Saguru remembered from his other visits, down to the worn nameplate with ‘Kuroba’ etched on it. The only difference Saguru saw was a wilted-looking pot of flowers set next to the doorstep in what had probably been an attempt to brighten the place up. He had been moving about life in somewhat of a happy daze the last week or so since he spoke to Kuroba, but he was coming back down from it and knew there were still a few things to take care of before he could truly relax, the ongoing arrests, trials, and investigations aside.

Aoko answered his second knock. There were hints of dark circles under her eyes and her flyaway hair was even more untamable than usual, fighting to escape the ponytail she’d forced it into. She didn’t look surprised to see him though. Saguru was surprised when she gave him a tired smile instead of the frown he expected.

“Hakuba,” she said, leaning on the door frame.

“Aoko-san,” Saguru returned. He gripped his cane in both hands, rocking back on his heels. “I thought we should talk.”

Aoko snorted, finding something about the situation funny. She gave him a once over before stepping aside. “Come on in then.”

There were a pair of men’s shoes already lined up next to Aoko and Takumi’s shoes indicating that she already had a guest. They weren’t the right size for Nakamori.

“Don’t bother with guest slippers,” Aoko said with a wave of a hand as Saguru took off his shoes. “I don’t mind. I was just having some tea with Kintaro.”

Kintaro? A memory clicked as Saguru rounded the corner, recognizing an officer from the Kid heist who had worked closely with Aoko. He was perhaps a few years younger than them at most, with a serious looking face. He was relaxed at the moment, one of Aoko’s heavy mugs in his hands.

“Kurenai Kintaro,” Aoko said, nodding at him. “My second in command for the task force. We were partners for a while before I got my promotion. Kintaro, Hakuba Saguru. He was my classmate in high school.”

“A pleasure to formally meet you,” Kintaro said. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

Between Aoko and Nakamori, Saguru didn’t want to know what sort of stories had been told. He nodded politely and gave pleasantries in return. Aoko hadn’t mentioned him, but then Saguru only spoke to Aoko about very specific things. Takumi, on the other hand, had mentioned him a few times if Saguru remembered correctly. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything...?” Saguru ventured.

Aoko gave another small snort of laughter. “No. It’s the first day off we’ve had in weeks and all we could think to do with it is sit and have tea.”

“To be fair, we haven’t been doing much sitting,” Kintaro said with dry humor.

“Or drinking tea. I think I’ve drank so much coffee the last few weeks my soul left my body for a while there.”

“That would be called almost passing out from lack of sleep.”

“I went and took a nap after.”

“Next time I’ll intervene before it gets to that point.”

“Damn, there had better not be a next time of that week from hell.”

Saguru watched the back and forth, the humor at the stress shared between them, and had a stirring of understanding. He was interrupting a bit. But it wasn’t an interruption that would ruin anything, much like Mum showing up wouldn’t ruin the back and forth with him and Kuroba. “I take it that was during the worst of the fall out,” Saguru said.

“Ugh,” Aoko groaned. “It’s been hell. And it’s going to drag on for months until everyone’s had every last thing they’ve done in the last decade turned inside out and upside-down to be sure the corruption’s gone. But on the bright side, now that the hype is fading, the media’s not ringing the phones off the hook and for the moment no one’s breathing down my neck.”

“Small blessings,” Kintaro murmured, straight faced into his mug. Aoko elbowed him and poured Saguru a cup of tea.

“So,” she said. “I figure you want to talk about Kaito.”

Kintaro had a professional blank face. Aoko’s frankness meant he had to know about Kid. How they would manage to cover up that they both knew the identity of Kaitou Kid while the whole of the police were being investigated for anything they were hiding, Saguru didn’t care to know. He didn’t think Aoko would sell Kuroba out, and she wouldn’t have told anyone if she thought they would either.

“Yes,” Saguru said. He’d thought about how to approach this many times, from a roundabout discussion on Kid and Saguru’s past investment in him to attempting to talk through his mental state of recent months. In the end he’d decided to go with the most direct conversation because Aoko was a direct sort of person. Admittedly, he hadn’t expected to have someone else present for this. “You’re no doubt more than aware that I hold more than friendly feelings for Kuroba by this point,” he said, feeling uncomfortably open. He didn’t try to get out of it though, meeting Aoko’s gaze despite the faint warmth of his cheeks. “Recently I became aware that it was not one sided, and now we are dating. I hope that this won’t make things awkward going forward.”

Aoko didn’t look annoyed, just a slightly exasperated smile on her face and a complete lack of surprise. “No more awkward than it’s ever going to be interacting with Kaito.” Her smile went a bit more wistful. “I mean, it does feel a bit weird. Especially thinking back to high school. But it’s been years since then and years since the divorce, so...” She sighed. “Damn well time to let go of all that.”

Kintaro was pretending to be engrossed in his cup of tea.

Saguru cleared his throat. “Right. Thank you for understanding.”

“Anytime. Though if he ever hurts you like he did me, I’ll be glad to smack some sense in him.”

“Thank you,” Saguru repeated. Looking at her, she still had the same fire in her that she had in high school. The same fierce glint in her eye she’d have when wielding a mop or protecting a friend. It seemed he still counted as something of a friend to her. Perhaps here, too, he had a chance of building and repairing a relationship into something new. He hoped so. He liked Aoko even if he didn’t like Aoko as she was around Kuroba. “Hopefully that will never be necessary.”

“It had better not be,” she said with a toss of her head. “And I guess you better not hurt him either. Bakaito’s fucked up enough as it is.”

“I’ll try my best.” He let his eyes drop to his tea and drank a long swallow in hope that it would make the embarrassment a bit less prevalent. Mostly it just scalded his tongue. “Is Takumi-kun in?”

“He’s still grounded for the most part,” Aoko said, “so yes. He’s in his room. How has he been in class?”

“Quiet.”

“He’s been pretty quiet here too...” She glanced toward the stairs with pursed lips.

“There was an incident with someone popping a balloon in homeroom recently...”

“Ah.” Both Kintaro and Aoko winced, having their own bad experiences with sudden loud noises in the aftermath of trauma. “He didn’t mention it...”

“Would you mind if I talked with him?” Saguru asked. “There hasn’t been a chance to at school.”

“Go ahead,” Aoko said. She rubbed the back of her neck, back to looking exhausted and every one of her thirty-four years of age. “He certainly hasn’t wanted to talk to me lately.” The difficulty of being the parent who was responsible for discipline, Saguru reflected, and the ongoing tension of Takumi almost dying paired with Aoko having to work even more overtime than normal.

Saguru left his tea on the table. He caught a glimpse of Kintaro putting a hand on Aoko’s shoulder as he rounded the corner for the stairs, but he didn’t linger. Let them have their privacy. He’d almost assuredly interrupted a heart to heart. Maybe Aoko’s decision to move on wasn’t just for Saguru’s ears.

Takumi’s room was right at the top of the stairs, identifiable by the whiteboard stuck on it. It had a little doodle of a dragon munching on a lacrosse stick with Shiemi’s handwriting indicating that the stick was intended to be the losing team. The door was closed, but Takumi opened it when he knocked.

“Hakuba-sensei?” Takumi looked tired, though not as tired as Aoko. More like high school Kuroba the week before a heist, meaning he hadn’t been getting enough sleep.

“Takumi-kun. I wanted to see how you were doing. A lot happened in the last month, and there hasn’t been much time to ask.”

“Oh.” Takumi blinked and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “Sure. I guess we can talk. Uh. Come in I guess?” He waved a hand at the desk tucked against one wall. “Pull up a chair.”

Takumi’s room couldn’t be more different from the room at Kuroba’s apartment. That room had minimal personal touches, but here there were posters on the walls and casual clutter, homework and books and bits and bobs of magician paraphernalia here and there in an organized looking sort of mess. Takumi slumped back over to his bed where he must have been sitting as there was the latest novel from the literature club there face down to save the page.

“Sorry,” Takumi mumbled. “It’s kind of a mess. I haven’t felt like cleaning lately.”

“It’s fine.” Saguru took a seat at the desk chair. Takumi’s window looked out at a tree, green leaves heavy and full on the branches. “You look tired.”

Takumi shrugged. “How’s Tou-san?”

“Home.” Saguru smiled as Takumi sat up straighter, relief clear on his face. Kuroba had been much better when Takumi last saw him, but far from well. “He will be back to work any day now and it looks like he will regain the full range of mobility he had before.”

“Thank goodness.” Takumi tucked his legs to his chest, curled around them in an act of self-comforting that Saguru was well acquainted with.

“Are you okay?” Saguru asked directly.

Takumi shrugged again. “I’m not hurt.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.” He looked so young. So young, and he was young, younger than Kuroba was when Saguru first met him, barely older than Saguru was when he ran into his first murder case. So much younger than it felt like when you were that age, something that only hindsight revealed. It was easy to try to live up to some skewed concept of adulthood. Easy to tell yourself to grow up and move on. It was what Saguru had done once. He wished he hadn’t, grown up too fast and pushed down too many emotions before he realized what it did to a person. Saguru sighed and looked past Takumi, to the tree, giving him the illusion of space. “Kuroba hasn’t been sleeping well,” Saguru said softly. “He hides it well, but he’s awake before I am and asleep after.” Saguru stayed one night since Kuroba was back in the apartment, and he’d woken halfway through the night to find Kuroba staring out at the dark streets with no expression at all. “I have had nightmares almost every night since Kid’s glider went down. It isn’t a weakness to acknowledge that the events of the last month haunt you.”

Takumi’s shoulders hunched, his face pressed into his knees. He had a pretty close imitation of Kuroba’s blank face on. “I didn’t get hurt,” Takumi repeated.

“It doesn’t have to be a physical wound to hurt.”

“I know that. Just.” He hid the rest of his face. “Hakuba-sensei, I only wore the Kid costume once. Tou-san wore it for _seventeen years_. I keep having nightmares and Tou-san’s always had a smile when I need one. Always.”

“He’s a remarkably good actor,” Saguru acknowledged.

“Kaa-san is a police officer and she’s been shot at and she’s still going on with life, and Tou-san became Kid around my age, probably got shot at and _kept going_ and I can’t even get over a few bullets and blood.”

Takumi’s voice cracked and Saguru hurt both because Takumi couldn’t help but compare himself to his parents and because he was viewing it from the wrong angle entirely. Saguru crossed the room to Takumi’s side and red-rimmed eyes glanced up at him.

“And you haven’t kept going?” Saguru asked softly. He didn’t reach out because Takumi looked like the last thing he wanted was to be touched, but he stood close, supportive. “Takumi-kun, you have gotten up in the morning and gone to school and proceeded with your life even with things weighing on you. You didn’t hide away after Kid was shot down, but helped save his life and then turned around and did what you thought was the best option even though you were terrified to do it. Bravery isn’t a lack of fear, it’s acting in spite of it.” Takumi looked at him like every word might be the one to snap the world into some sort of order where fear wasn’t the forefront of his life and Takumi wasn’t full of internal conflict over emotional reactions he couldn’t control. “Nightmares don’t make you weak, and just because your parents have had more trauma in their life than you, it doesn’t negate that what happened to you was traumatic.”

“I should be able to just be myself. Move on,” Takumi murmured.

“Takumi, the only reason your mother and Kuroba and I appear to be functioning better is because we’ve had a lifetime of compartmentalizing and learning how and when to deal with the emotions traumatic events bring up. In the first week after Kid was shot, I had to check on Kuroba in the middle of the night half a dozen times, and probably would have stayed the whole night some of those times if Kuroba hadn’t woken up and called me out for watching him sleep.” Saguru sighed. “What I’m trying to say is that your response is normal. You watched a man—your father—almost die and you were shot at. Those are both extremely upsetting things.”

Takumi uncurled a little, still listening.

“Holding it in and pretending it didn’t happen will not help. Talk to someone. Write out what you feel or think or everything the nightmares stir up. It will get better. I won’t lie and say it will go away, because these sort of things leave scars even if they’re not visible. And Takumi?” Saguru crouched until he was eye level. “Kuroba is better at compartmentalizing than most of the world’s population, and if you strip all his acts away and make him be honest to himself, even he has scars that will never heal and things that will haunt him for the rest of his life. This is the first time you’ve had something traumatic like this happen. It’s a good thing you’re able to feel what you are. Some of us who’ve gone through it time and again can get so numb that we can’t even tell when we’re hurting and hurt ourselves worse. Your mind still has the instincts to try and work through and heal.”

“It sucks,” Takumi said after a few seconds.

“Royally,” Saguru agreed with a twitch of a smile. “Nightmares get old fast. I’ve found that trying to clear my mind before I go to sleep helps sometimes.”

“Only sometimes, huh?”

“As much as we try, the subconscious is unfortunately out of our control.”

That got him another tiny smile. Takumi uncurled from his ball. “It would have been better if I could have gone to lacrosse, but I kinda blew that. At least Kaa-san’s letting me do club activities so long as they’re right after school again.”

“Exercise in moderation can help,” Saguru agreed. “Don’t overdo it though.”

“I know my limits there,” Takumi said.

The tension that had filled the room dissipated as Takumi let out a small sigh.

“So is Tou-san retired?”

“More or less.” Saguru returned to the chair, giving him space again. “He does not intend to do any more serious heists, certainly.”

“Good.” A pause then, “Does that mean Kaa-san’s out of a job?”

Saguru tilted his head, considering. “No, because while Kid might be retired, he’s certainly left plenty of messes to clean up that Kid’s task force is uniquely qualified to deal with. And even if he hadn’t, I’m sure Aoko could easily gain a position working theft or specialized cases. The years of experience have given her and her men a wide range of practical experience that transfers broadly.”

“Ok. That’s good then.” Takumi glanced out the window, eyes distant. “You think it will make things less awkward with them? Kaa-san and Tou-san?”

“I hope so.” When he let himself dwell on it, Saguru couldn’t help but feel sad at the state of Kuroba and Aoko’s relationship. They’d been best friends once, weaved in and around each other with a closeness that he’d envied a bit. It was hard to say if more than a decade of lies and secrets and broken hearts could heal at this point.

“At the very least he won’t be rubbing Kid in Kaa-san’s face,” Takumi muttered. “Or getting shot at.”

“True.”

“Pass on a message for me to Tou-san?” Takumi asked, focusing back on Saguru again. Saguru nodded. “Tell him I expect him to take me to get sushi for my birthday this year.”

Saguru raised an eyebrow. Between the fact that Takumi was grounded and that Kuroba hated fish, it was an outing that didn’t seem very likely. He took it to mean that Takumi was still a bit angry at Kuroba after all. “I’ll pass it along.”

“And...tell him that I’m glad he’s better. And I’ll visit as soon as I can.”

“I will.”

“Thanks, Hakuba-sensei.”

Saguru asked him about lacrosse and how he liked the book from literature club, chatting a bit longer and bringing up Takumi’s spirits until he looked almost himself again. When he left, Aoko showed him to the door with a smile and managed to get a promise from him to keep in touch, not just for case reasons.

Life was settling. Saguru thought he was finally ready to settle with it.

**OMAKE**

Saguru took all of three steps into the literature club meeting before Momoi Shiemi turned to the other members and said, “Ha! Pay up.”

“Pardon?” Saguru froze just inside the door, absent smile on his face frozen in light of all the stares in his direction.

“Aw man...” Honda Jirou reached into a pocket for his wallet.

“Seriously?” Mizumachi Kou said.

Watanabe Emi turned around in her seat. “You couldn’t have waited a few more weeks?”

“I was betting on that cute guy Takata-sensei mentioned,” Honda sighed. He pressed several folded bills into Momoi’s hand.

Saguru blinked at them as they went on with...whatever this was. “Were you betting on me?”

“It’s not bad for you guys,” Nishijima Yuutaro grumbled. “I bet he wasn’t gay.”

“You suck at this,” Momoi said, collecting money from everyone there. Even a shamefaced Takumi.

“To be fair, statistically speaking—”

“Literally everyone else changed their bets after we read _Confessions of a Mask_ ,” Momoi said. “Let alone the news articles.”

“I didn’t want to assume!”

“So you assumed he was straight?” Momoi quipped.

Saguru decided he should have just come to the meeting late. Or not at all. Now that their bet was done they were ignoring him altogether. He sat in a chair and watched with something akin to morbid fascination.

“Nishijima-kun, twenty percent of the population isn’t straight,” Honda pointed out.

“The numbers are inflated!” Nishijima waved a hand in emphasis. “There’s over thirty people in my home room alone and none of them are gay.”

“First,” Takumi said, sounding tired, “not straight does not automatically equal gay. Second, how would you even know? Most people are closeted.”

“Third,” Momoi chimed in, “you’re wrong—you do have someone in your class who’s gay. Me.”

The whole literature club went briefly silent. Half the members looked at Momoi wide eyed. Nishijima looked like he wanted to swallow all the words he’d just said. Takumi looked like he couldn’t be more proud of Momoi in that moment.

“Oh,” Nishijima said awkwardly. He glanced around, lingering on Saguru and Takumi who hadn’t been surprised in the least. “You knew?”

“Shiemi told me ages ago,” Takumi said.

“I overheard certain things,” Saguru said diplomatically.

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Anyone else gay that I should know about?”

Honda raised a hand. No one except Nishijima looked even a bit surprised.

“Seriously?”

“He chose the gay book,” Momoi said. “He isn’t even trying to hide it.”

“So,” Saguru cut in, “all of you had nothing better to do over summer break than make bets over your teacher’s sexuality?”

“We’ve been making bets since the start of the school year and this one was on your relationship status,” Momoi said with a false innocent look one her face.

Ever diplomatic, Takumi shrugged apologetically. “From the sound of it, last year they bet whether or not Yumi-sensei was pregnant.”

“Nishijima-kun bet she wasn’t,” Mizumachi snickered.

“You have terrible luck,” Watanabe said. “Never gamble.”

Saguru rolled his eyes at the lot of them. “How many people were even in on this?”

“Mm, the lit club,” Momoi said, “a couple teachers led by Takata-sensei, some lacrosse team members including Yuuto-kun—”

“We only met once,” Saguru muttered. “He’s not even in my classes.”

“Five people from your homeroom,” Momoi continued without missing a beat, “a guy I know on the police force, and one of the maintenance men who can never turn down a bet.” She grinned at Saguru. “For the record, I made a lot of money.”

“I feel like I should be discouraging this gambling habit of yours.” First the card games at the start of the year, now she was the bookie of a bet. They were lucky he was mostly exasperated and embarrassed than annoyed by the speculations. “Also, how do you know you won anything?”

Momoi snorted. “Please. You and Kuroba-ji have been dancing around each other since you moved here. You have to be as blind as Nishijima to miss it.”

“I take offense to that,” Nishijima grumbled.

“Also,” Momoi said ignoring Nishijima’s commentary, “besides your totally sappy look coming in here, Takumi totally witnessed you two kissing and if you aren’t dating after that, I have questions about how you draw lines in your relationships.”

Takumi didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, flipping through the novel they were supposed to be discussing. The tips of his ears were red with embarrassment. He’d handed over money with everyone else, so clearly he had been betting on this too. Honestly, at this point the only thing Saguru was surprised about was that Takumi never confronted him about seeing them kiss at all.

Saguru sighed, rubbing at his forehead.

“So,” Momoi said, “are you dating?”

Saguru held up his copy of that week’s novel. “So. This is literature club. Where we discuss literature. Form a gossip club on your own time.”

“Spoilsport.” She had a predatory sort of smile that promised nagging questions later and Saguru resigned himself to trying to ignore that for the rest of the day. If she wanted confirmation on anything, she could drag it out of Takumi or Kuroba, not Saguru.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue left guys! Thanks for sticking with this fic so long ^_^ And thank you for all your awesome comments every chapter. They always make me smile. (Promise I'll go answer them eventually! Haven't been in the right head space to do so, but they're still very appreciated ^_~ )  
> There's going to be more extras and a prequel fic for this universe at some point, but I think I'll be taking a bit of a break after posting the last chapter before posting them all. Thank you for reading! <3


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Done in the style of the extras more or less ^_^; Thank you to everyone who’s read this and commented/liked/kudos’d it along the way. It’s made working on this story that much more worth it <3

Takumi’s Birthday

The table was filled with people; Takumi had been sure to invite his friends, Aoko and Kurenai from the police force, Chikage, and Saguru on his birthday outing with Kaito. Which could have been a horribly awkward scenario despite how Aoko and Kaito were trying to get along. But Takumi chose a sushi restaurant for his birthday dinner, and Kaito looked like he was having a very quiet meltdown in the corner. Saguru, sitting across from him, discreetly leaned closer.

“Do you need to leave?” Saguru whispered. The rest of the table was having a wonderful time, sharing sushi platters that were coming from Kaito’s tab and generally falling into the celebratory mood. Anywhere else and Kaito would be in the middle of it.

Takumi had made a point of ordering shirasu, tiny whole young anchovies staring from the pieces of sushi more than enough to keep Kaito quiet and picking at his decidedly vegetarian selection in the corner.

“I can’t,” Kaito said, prodding a piece of omelet with his chopsticks. “I have to stay. If I can make it through a day at an aquarium, I can make it through a meal at a sushi place.”

A pair of chopsticks grabbed one of the shirasu pieces and Kaito shuddered. He’d kept his head down as soon as he’d noticed the chef in the corner carefully slicing meat from whole fish.

“Would it help to have your back to the room—”

“I appreciate the concern, but it’s not helping.” Kaito stuffed a piece of inarizushi into his mouth to end the conversation.

Saguru sighed. At the other end of the table, Aoko caught his eye and shrugged. There was no helping Kaito’s phobia. Shiemi also glanced Kaito’s way a few times as the meal went on before leaning over to Takumi to whisper something.

Takumi glanced around and said, “After we should get dessert.”

Kaito’s eyes glazed over a bit like he was seeing something terrible and long in his future.

Takumi looked at Kaito. “At the ice cream place down the street.”

Kaito slumped. “Oh thank goodness.”

“I’m not _that_ mad at you,” Takumi said. He took the last piece of shirasu, removing fish staring at Kaito at any rate.

Saguru reached across the table to pat Kaito’s shoulder. He’d be forgiven eventually. At this point Takumi was mostly seeing how far he could push the boundaries of guilt.

“That better be some good ice cream to make up for this,” Kaito muttered to himself.

Saguru finished off another sushi roll and stayed out of the drama.

 

So that’s ALL the Secrets, Right?

Saguru lounged on Kaito’s living room sofa, lukewarm tea in hand as Kaito finished explaining how he’d become Kid at his side. Takumi, who had long since abandoned his own tea, had spent most of the explanation tucked up in the couch across from them with his arms crossed like if it wasn’t a good enough story he’d take personal offense. By the end of it though, he was watching Kaito as intently as Saguru was. It was fascinating to finally hear the whole story instead of just what Kaito had implied and Saguru pieced together.

“Once I knew what I was looking for, that helped some, but it’s pretty clear that knowing you’re looking for a gem that might or might not be mythological doesn’t really narrow things down a lot in the long run.” Kaito shrugged, more relaxed now than he’d been at the start of the explanation. His socked feet were almost in Saguru’s lap as Kaito commandeered the other half of the sofa. “At the time, it seemed like it wouldn’t be too hard. Make a spectacle, draw out the people who killed Oyaji and keep them from getting what they wanted. I didn’t realize how big a group they were then or how hard a gem could be to find.”

“And so Kid stuck around,” Takumi said. He’d hugged a throw pillow to his chest at some point—around when Kaito mentioned being shot at the first time—and he didn’t look like he’d be letting go of it any time soon. “You know it doesn’t really make any of this less crazy, right?”

“I know. But I come by crazy honestly,” Kaito said with a wry smile. He was trying to invite Takumi to smile with him, but they weren’t there yet. “I mean, Oyaji saw Kaa-san when she was a thief and just up and became a thief himself, so they started the crazy.”

“I still can’t believe Obaa-san is a thief.” Takumi grimaced. “Is _still_ kind of a thief. How the heck did I even get born, a family of thieves marrying a family of _police officers_.”

“Opposites attracts?” Kaito said lightly.

“Or something.” He flicked a glance at Saguru, probably thinking something along the lines that Kaito was predictable in his taste if he went for a detective as well as a police officer. Saguru could admit to the irony of it. “So.” Takumi reached for his tea, took a sip and immediately put it back with a disgusted expression. “Um. That’s all the secrets, right? No more bombshells you’re waiting to drop?”

Kaito opened his mouth, hesitated. “Um.”

Takumi slumped. “What. What did you do?”

Kaito glanced at Saguru. Saguru raised an eyebrow. Even though he was here listening, he was mostly staying out of it. This was Kaito mending bridges, not Saguru having a field day with possibly getting to ask his own questions and have them answered.

“I know you’re dating Hakuba-sensei, and that’s...a little weird still, but that’s not really a secret,” Takumi cut in, misinterpreting the look. “To be honest you guys were already giving off dating vibes so it’s actually less awkward and I’ve mostly gotten over that.”

“No, it’s not about Hakuba.” Kaito ran a hand through his hair, looking up at the ceiling like it had answers written on it. Or maybe wishing it would fall and erase how tense this conversation had been so far. “How do I say this?”

“Please tell me you didn’t kill someone.”

Kaito scowled. “Why do you go straight to that?”

“Because what darker route is there to go?”

“I’ve never killed anyone, for goodness sake. I’ve seen more people die than I’d like, but no, no killing. Do I really seem that capable of murder—don’t answer that. I’d like to keep thinking that I don’t seem that cut-throat.”

“I don’t know what to think of you,” Takumi said. “You hide a lot so...”

“You have sisters,” Kaito said, blurting it out before it could go further down the path of him hypothetically murdering someone. “Two half-sisters. Don’t freak out, it was after Aoko and I were divorced. They’re six years old.”

“What?” Whatever Takumi’d had in mind for further secrets, possible siblings hadn’t been on the list. He stared, something between horror and incredulity on his face. “With who? How?”

Saguru cleared his throat. It was technically still the Kudo family’s secret but with clearing the air... “Three, maybe.”

“Three?” Takumi parroted blankly.

“Three?” Kaito said. “Wha—no. They’d have said.”

“I didn’t confirm it, but...Chikage-san’s eyes.” Saguru met Kaito’s eyes, noting all the little facial details that lined up. Kaito wasn’t exactly like Kudo no matter how close they looked.

“Yukiko-san’s got maybe a quarter—”

“You’d know the timing better than I would.”

Kaito twitched. “That’s... That’s...damn. Probable. What the hell?”

“So I could have _three_ half-siblings,” Takumi cut in, horror rapidly edging toward disgust. “Tou-san, what the hell?”

“Okay, before you get too angry, the twins were IVF babies; I’m just the sperm donor. A...friend wanted a child and asked if I’d be the other half of the genetics.” Saguru snorted. That was one way of putting it. Kaito dug his heel into Saguru’s thigh in retaliation. “And clearly I had no idea of...of a maybe third either, what the heck? How did you notice that if I didn’t?”

“You weren’t looking for it,” Saguru said, patting Kaito’s ankle.

“You were looking to see if I had possible illegitimate children?”

“No, I was looking for answers to a question and that was a possible explanation.”

“Wouldn’t they tell me?”

“Would they have been able to?”

Kaito opened his mouth. Closed it. “Hm. Maybe not at first. But there would have been chances. Were chances.”

“Can we get back to the whole _three half-sisters_ bit?” Takumi hissed. “Seriously, what the hell?” He threw the pillow at Kaito’s head. “Self-control?”

“Oi.” Kaito tossed the pillow back. “I just said that two of those siblings were because a friend asked. The third was... an accident. I don’t go sleeping around left and right, you know that.”

“Apparently I don’t know much, so why not that too! Just because you don’t date doesn’t mean you don’t sleep around!”

“Well I don’t! I’ve been with maybe five people since I got divorced, Takumi, and two of them were men! I didn’t exactly have time or energy to throw myself at people!”

Takumi gestured at Saguru. Saguru raised both hands defensively. “Please leave me out of this portion of the discussion.”

“That was different!” Good lord, Kaito was blushing. Saguru stared. “That was overtures of friendship to bridge a rocky past. Not. Throwing myself at anyone.”

“Wow. So convincing.” Takumi ran his hand through his hair just like Kaito did, his hair a wild mess. “Okay. So do I get to meet them or are they just...out there?”

“The twins aren’t interested in a family relationship,” Kaito said. “That was part of the whole...thing. She didn’t want me involved closely, and I respected that and I’ve met them, and they know who I am, but for now at least they don’t want anything more than that and I’m not going to pressure anyone about that because they’re not obligated to care about a genetic donor.”

Takumi made a face somewhere between a grimace and a scowl. “Okay.”

“The third...”

“You’ve met,” Saguru said, taking pity on them. “Kudo Midori.”

A bunch of expressions flashed across Takumi’s face. Shock, confusion, anger, disbelief. “Tou-san, she’s _married_.”

“You say that like I went behind her husband’s back!”

“...you didn’t?”

“No!” Kaito threw up his hands. “I respect Kudo! And Ran-san. It was all very open except they didn’t know my real name and face.”

Takumi stared at him for one long moment before smothering a frustrated sound into his hands. “Well I guess that explains everything in why they had no problem taking in Kaitou Kid.”

“We still don’t know for sure that Midori’s mine instead of Kudo’s,” Kaito pointed out.

“But there’s enough chance that I’m just going to...accept that as fact,” Takumi grumbled. “Better than being in denial. Tou-san, Shiemi is going to have words with you later because she’s going to be so disillusioned.”

“Do you have to tell her?”

“Would you rather I talk this through with Kaa-san?” Takumi asked, pointedly.

Kaito paled. “Go ahead. Tell Shiemi.”

“Kaa-san will find out eventually. She always does.”

“Yeah, but I like living.”

“At least you waited until you were divorced,” Takumi muttered. “She doesn’t actually have a reason to be pissed off since you weren’t with her. It’s just shitty that you didn’t take responsibility for them.”

“How?? How could I when one doesn’t want me involved and I didn’t know about the other?”

“Make up for it now?”

Kaito flopped into Saguru’s side, all the tension starting to unfurl as Takumi didn’t out and out explode at Kaito or storm out. “Maybe Kudo wouldn’t mind with Midori. I’ll leave the twins to make their own choices though.”

“You don’t want to be involved?” Takumi asked. That was the sticking point, it seemed. That Kaito wasn’t involved with them, perhaps especially because of how much effort Kaito put in staying involved with Takumi’s life.

“What I want doesn’t matter because that’s not my call.”

“So you do want to.”

Kaito shrugged. “I knew what I was agreeing to.” He sighed. “Kudo’s family is different though. I think I would like to be involved. Maybe as a sort of uncle figure. If they’d let me.”

“...Do you think they’d mind if I got to know Midori-chan more?” Takumi asked, so quietly Saguru almost didn’t hear him.

“I think they wouldn’t say no to a babysitter-slash-brother-figure in their children’s lives,” Kaito said.

“I think I might want that.” Takumi uncurled from his spot on the couch, looking tired. “The heck, I’m an older brother. Younger me would be so jealous.”

“You wanted siblings?” Saguru asked.

“Once upon a time, yeah. That was a long time ago though.” Takumi sighed. “This is so weird. I mean, this is a lot more normal of a shock than finding out your dad’s Japan’s most notorious thief. But still.”

“On the upside, I don’t think there are any more secrets that I can think of that even hold a candle to those.”

“So there are more secrets,” Takumi grumbled. He looked like he was trying to merge with the couch, limp against its cushions.

“If by secrets you mean the kind where you overheard things you weren’t supposed to or didn’t tell people that it was you who borrowed that shirt they were missing and ate the last chocolate in the cupboard, then yes,” Kaito said, “I still have secrets. The ordinary, non-life-changing kind of secrets.”

“Oh. Okay then. I don’t want to know all those kinds of secrets. Not unless they impact me.”

Saguru sipped at his now-cold tea. That could have gone a lot worse.

“So do you have the Kudo’s phone number or should I just show up one day since that’s what they’ve come to expect from our family?” Takumi asked after a few moments.

“I’ll give you their phone number.”

“Cool.” Another pause. “You’d better not have any more random children in the future.”

“I don’t plan on it.”

Saguru patted Kaito’s shoulder. “Now that that is settled, I was thinking we might order in for dinner. Suggestions?”

“Pizza,” Takumi said immediately. “I need something horrible for me to counteract how the world has shifted under my feet again.”

“Pizza’s good,” Kaito said.

Since neither of them seemed inclined to move, Saguru pulled out his phone. “Pizza it is.” This had definitely gone better than anticipated. No screaming, tears, or accusations of betrayal. Takumi was halfway toward accepting it already and hadn’t left the room at any point. Good. They’d figure things out from there. There was no shortage on time so long as Takumi was still giving Kaito a chance.

 

Saguru’s Trade

The first time Saguru ran across a random mugging, he didn’t think twice about it; sometimes these things happened, and in this case he was at the right place at the right time to do something about it. He hadn’t even thought twice about disabling the attacker with his cane before calling the police.

Being at the combini as it was being held up less than a week later was...well, not improbable, but it was a bit surprising to run into trouble so soon after the mugging. Saguru’d been in Japan months and these were the most criminal activities he’d run into outside of Kuroba’s shadow organization.

Catching a purse snatcher on the train on his way to work two days later had Saguru feeling suspicious, and by the fourth time he’d called the police that month for an attempted break in across the street, Saguru was sure there was a pattern.

It was like crime illogically was attracted to wherever Saguru was. Or perhaps it was the other way around; Saguru was drawn to wherever the crime was about to occur—it wasn’t as if he ordinarily got meals from the convenience store or took a train an hour later than his usual time.

It was only when Saguru found his face plastered in the news a few days before November for talking down an armed robbery attempt when he and Kuroba happened to stop by the bank that Saguru really started to feel concerned.

“I think I’m cursed,” he said to Kaito, patching up a few scrapes from where one of the robbers had smacked him into a teller station in a moment of desperation. “Is this what Kudo feels all the time running into murders? Because this is unpleasant.”

“Well it definitely resembles Kudo’s brand of luck,” Kaito said, holding bandages at the ready. “When did it start?”

“Hmm, not long after the first wave of arrests following the events at Hiroto’s workplace. It started with finding a slew of lost objects over the course of a week and a half, actually. Or maybe before that?” Saguru hadn’t thought much about finding a purse or wallet on the train to turn into the station staff in hopes of finding its owner before it became a daily occurrence. “Then that got rarer and more criminals started popping up.” It was going steady with at least one crime a week at this rate. Saguru was going to end up on first name basis with the local officers if it continued like this.

“Huh.” Kaito put a bandage over a scrape on Saguru’s arm, tsking over the bruise near his elbow joint. “That’s going to be bad.”

“It will heal,” Saguru said, resigned. He’d had an uptick in bruises and other minor injuries as the crime rate ticked higher as well. An unpleasant correlation, but not exactly surprising. “I’ve never run into cases this often. I mean as a detective, cases appear a lot more often than they would for the average person, but even then I had to actively seek most of them out. This is different.”

“At least you don’t have corpses falling from the sky like Kudo,” Kaito said. They both winced at a recent case Kudo had involving a man who’d fallen from the top of a skyscraper. It hadn’t been a pleasant crime scene. If any crime scene could be considered pleasant.

“I hope there isn’t a ‘yet’ in that statement.” He could do without corpses and bloodshed.

Kaito hummed. “Hey, Saguru, what exactly was your deal with Akako-hime again?”

Saguru froze. “Oh.” The timing would fit, wouldn’t it? He’d traded for Kaito’s safety, traded in metaphysical and impossible—improbable?—levels beyond his comprehension. So far Kaito was unscathed and...and Saguru was having more and more run ins with random criminals while Kaito had none with the organization that he’d screwed over.

“Saguru?” Kaito looked worried now. “What did you trade her? Because it might _technically_ be fair on some cosmic level but that doesn’t mean it won’t screw you over in the process.”

“According to Koizumi-san, I traded...essentially my quiet, unobtrusive life I believe. Her exact words were that I wouldn’t be able to go unnoticed again.”

“Oh.” Kaito looked...sad? Regretful? “You gave away your peace. Why would you...?” Kaito knew exactly how much the spotlight wasn’t comfortable to Saguru these days. And yet Saguru would take having his face in the papers again, take all the random encounters, if it meant Kaito was safe.

“It’s worth it,” Saguru said.

“...I gave up ever becoming a stage magician to her,” Kaito revealed after a moment.

“What did you trade it for?”

“Healing. The healing when I most needed it because I didn’t think I’d live through it otherwise.”

Kaito gave up his dream. He didn’t look regretful though, merely thoughtful.

“I thought being on stage brought too many flashbacks,” Saguru said.

“It does.” Kaito shrugged. “I think part of Akako-hime’s magic works with what’s already there to make things slide into place and costs take effect. I always had a bit of fear and unpleasant memories attached to being onstage. It just...ensured I can’t compartmentalize it or easily overcome it like with everything else. I can’t pursue it because my own brain won’t let me, therefor fulfilling the cost or some bullshit.”

“The path of least resistance.”

“Pretty much.”

“That is good to know.” Still, it was going to be annoying in the long run. How did Kudo stand it?

“Hey, do you think that’s what happened with Kudo?” Kaito mused. “Some deal with a death god or something? Or maybe one of his ancestors made a deal and cursed his whole family line.”

“Or maybe it’s uniquely Kudo.”

“Or that.” Kaito packed the first aid kit away as Saguru put one last bandage on a scrape.

“Now that that mystery is solved,” Saguru said, “let me say that this is going to be inconvenient at best. Why do you think there was a delay?”

“Best bet?” Kaito stood on tip toe to slot the kit on top of the bathroom cupboard. “Most of the cost was going into your effort to help catch the organization. You are less involved with that, the universe starts throwing other problems at you to solve.”

“Very inconvenient,” Saguru muttered again. “I was almost late to work the other day. I probably will be late as this goes on. They’re not going to be very sympathetic in the long run.”

“You’re planning to teach next year right?”

“I was going to. Now I have to wonder if it’s the best idea. Yumi-sensei is planning to return from maternity leave this spring after all. I was planning to apply for the science teacher position opening up, but if this continues they might not even give me a second glance, no matter how many recommendations people put forth.”

“Maybe you could be a substitute teacher? You have the credentials to teach more than English. And it would let you have an irregular schedule.”

“Maybe.” Saguru sighed.

Kuroba nudged him until he could get at Saguru’s back, his skilled hands easing tension from Saguru’s neck and shoulders easily. “”You have time to think about it. And hey, it will even out. There is a point where it will stop getting worse and just be a constant level. It just looks like it hasn’t found it yet.”

“At least I’m not Kudo.” If it were bodies dropping into his life at random, he’d go off in a bad way, surely. A thought occurred. What would happen if his and Kudo’s odd fortunes crossed paths? Would one cancel out the other or would they feed off each other until something truly catastrophic happened? “Kaito, remind me not to spend a good deal of time around Kudo in the future. Or not anywhere in public.”

“Huh.” Kaito paused his massage. His fingers drummed absently on Saguru’s neck. “Yeah, that would be interesting. In that case would it go from theft related things to murder, or would you just end up with a killer thief? Assuming your luck is theft related, it’s too soon to say for sure.”

“So long as it doesn’t end with a death count I believe we can call ourselves lucky.”

 

Second Chance

Saguru stood in front of pre-packaged cereals, debating what was a rather dismal and overpriced selection. While he had a craving for bran flakes, nothing in stock matched anything like what he was used to in London, and he was beginning to wonder if satisfying an urge to eat half-soggy carbohydrates swimming in milk was worth the hefty price tag that went with them.

“Is granola that interesting?” a familiar voice said behind him.

Saguru blinked, tearing his eyes away from an odd rendition of Tony the Tiger. “Aoko-san.”

Aoko smiled at him and looked at the cereal selection as well. “There’s so much sugar in these,” she said, picking up a box that had “Sugar Pon” written right across the top. “Kaito used to get that one with the monkey on it—Koko?” She nodded at a box toward the bottom. “Get those when he had an exam because he said the sugar gave him a boost. I always would point out that he’d just end up crashing halfway through, but that didn’t stop him from eating it.” Aoko set the box back with a little shrug. “He’s still a sugar addict so clearly he hasn’t learned. Were you looking for something in particular?”

“Bran flakes,” Saguru said. “Raisin bran, perhaps. Something not sugar coated.” The smiling tiger looked down on him from the box of frosted cornflakes. “I was hoping for something different for breakfasts this week.”

“Hmm, most of what they have here is for children or to put on ice cream,” Aoko said. “There’s a larger store a train stop away that might have them.”

“Thank you,” Saguru said, though he doubted he’d go the extra distance for a whim. Perhaps he would have jam and toast for a change up instead. Or maybe, since Kaito had been making him breakfasts every few days, Saguru should find ingredients for a proper British breakfast and return the favor. It was all a bit more effort than he generally had energy for first thing in the morning though. Saguru eyed the box of chocolate cereal Aoko had pointed out. Or he could get a cereal Kaito liked and endure excess sugar because Kaito would enjoy it.

Beside him, Aoko let out a soft laugh and reached past him. “This is the one Kaito occasionally got when he wasn’t trying to get a sugar high,” she said, guessing Saguru’s train of thought.

“Oh, lovely. That’s marginally less sweet.” It looked like a rip-off of honey Cheerios, in a thick flake form, but that was infinitely preferable to chocolate sugar coma.

“Doing both your and Kaito’s shopping, then?” Aoko asked.

“Not exactly.” They’d been sharing a lot lately, their apartments interchangeable where they ended up, and consequently, a lot of their kitchens’ contents were blurring the lines. Saguru had Kaito’s favorite biscuits in his cupboard and Kaito had managed to find Saguru’s favorite British tea somewhere and had a tin of it tucked in with his own tea selection. “We’ve been sharing breakfast a lot recently.”

Aoko had a small, amused smile on her face. She looked better than the last time they had run into each other shopping here. Calmer. Less like she was skirting the edge of a breakdown and more like life was finally starting to reach a balance. Her hair was pulled back today, showing off earrings that had to be new; she brushed them twice in the last minute like she would a loose strand of hair. It was a nice look for her. Altogether, she looked the most relaxed Saguru had seen her since he returned to Japan.

“It always surprised me that Kaito was capable of cooking when he put his mind to it,” Aoko said, “considering how often he’d bum meals from me in high school. He’s not bad at it though. You look happier.”

Saguru smiled back, a bit self-conscious because so many people had said that lately. He hadn’t realized he looked so unhappy before. “I am happier. The last few months have been nice. You look better as well.”

Aoko snorted. “I’ve finally got a week’s worth of good sleep. Work might be hell with the investigations going on, but it’s amazing how much less stressful it’s been now that Kid retired. Everything else seems so much simpler in comparison.” She grinned suddenly. “Of course it also helps that I’ve been making more time for myself. And to go on a date or two.”

“Did you ask Kurenai-san out or did he ask you?”

“Which do you think?”

“I think that once you decide on something, you do your best to make it happen.”

Aoko laughed. “You’re right. Kintaro’s not pushy enough to ask. But he was more than happy to comply when I said I was interested in dating him. It’s been nice.” Her smile was soft, fond and warm as she thought about her partner. “He’s nice.”

“I’m glad. You deserve to be happy.”

“I don’t know about deserve, but I’m not going to chase this chance away,” she said.

Saguru felt the same way. He was lucky once with Mel and he was lucky again now with Kaito. It was the sort of thing you didn’t take for granted when you found it again.

“Hey,” Aoko said, “would you like to get dinner sometime and catch up?”

They’d missed each other the other times they tried to connect so far, but Saguru was glad for another chance to keep trying. “I’d like that.” If nothing else, they had Takumi and more positive past memories of Kaito to share.

“Great!” Aoko grinned. “I’ll message you later and we can find some time when we’re both free. Right now I’d better finish up shopping.”

“Of course.”

“Oh,” Aoko said, before she took more than a step away, “Kaito also likes kuri dorayaki and persimmon mochi if you were looking for something seasonal. And weirdly corn KitKat, though that’s not really something you could get here.” Her nose scrunched. “He has strange taste sometimes.”

Saguru laughed. That last one wasn’t something he would have expected. “Thank you, Aoko-san.”

Aoko waved the thanks away. “Might as well pass on some of the random things I know about him. More use to you than me. See you later, Hakuba-san.”

Saguru watched her go, light inside. Another chance to be her friend, and perhaps a sign that Aoko’s small steps back toward friendship with Kaito were actually going someplace. He made a mental note of her suggestions before moving on with his shopping. Kaito surprised him often enough; it was nice for a chance to possibly surprise him with something he would like.

 

Christmastime

There was a knock on the door. Saguru paused in his teenage bedroom, one more box of his things from London open among many. “Come in!” he said, brushing dust off his hands—this box held Mel’s collection of playbooks for performances he’d been in up through college. It had probably just been dumped into the box, dust and all, and hadn’t been touched otherwise since they’d been put on the living room shelf a decade ago.

Kaito poked his head around the door. “Hey, just checking in. You’re missing out on all the holiday baking. We’re doing gingerbread men right now.”

“Sorry, I just wanted to go through a few things while we were here but...” Saguru waved to the mess of his room. All of the boxes had been moved in there about a month ago when he decided he might be able to go through his old things without feeling like he was either reliving or throwing away memories.

“I get it. I probably still have a box somewhere from when I moved out of Aoko’s house stashed at my mom’s place.” Kaito had a dusting of flour in his hair and a smudge of batter on his cheek. Saguru reached out to brush it off absently.

“Yes, well, I don’t want to put it off indefinitely. It’s just amazing how much stuff you can amass in a decade. I don’t even want to think about how much it cost to ship all of this here instead of leaving it in London to go through later.”

“Do you still have a London home?”

“Technically yes, though I suppose the flat Mel and I shared is probably desperately in need of upkeep by now. I’ve been making payments for it this whole time and someone checks in once a month but....” One more thing that he would need to take care of eventually, though it still wasn’t pressing. He could afford to pay for a flat he didn’t use a bit longer. The boxes in his room were maybe half of what he and Mel had owned so he’d have to go back and clean the rest out eventually.

“We’ll have to go come spring,” Kaito said, hooking him into a hug. “I’ll be moral support while you take care of things.”

“Thank you. I’d like that.” It would be a bit bittersweet, but he would like to show Kaito all the things that had been important to him during his years with Mel. It might not be what was in his life now, but it had been part of most of his adult life. “Now, did Mum kick you out of the kitchen or were you just being nice coming to get me?”

Kaito grinned. “I _may_ have started making some unconventional gingerbread men. Takumi was too, but apparently he can get away with it and I can’t.”

“Naturally,” Saguru said like gingerbread men were a serious thing indeed.

Kaito nudged him with an elbow. “C’mon. Come bake with us. Put that perfectionism to use and made some top-tier, uniform baked goods.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Saguru dusted his hands off again, glancing back at the boxes. He’d found more pictures and a collection of tickets and programs from Mel’s plays. It would be a shame to leave all these in boxes. Maybe he’d take a bit of time and make a scrapbook of them or something. Kaito’s fingers slotted between his in a loose grip. Kaito tilted his head, an invitation to talk if he needed it. Saguru shook his head, smiling. “I’m fine. Just thinking that I should do something to preserve the memories I had rather than leaving everything to molder in boxes.”

“That’s an idea.” Kaito smiled. “I was kind of thinking about doing something similar with Tou-san’s stuff. Maybe write a book about how he did his tricks. To keep in the family of course,” he added.

“Of course.” Kaito, like many magicians, took the methods of his craft very seriously and their secrecy most of all.

“Maybe I’ll do one for Kid too,” Kaito continued. “A scrapbook of all the heists and their coverage with methodology of how we pulled it off... For posterity’s sake.”

Saguru squeezed Kaito’s hand gently and Kaito squeezed back. He’d been a bit lost without Kid in his life, but he seemed to be finding himself lately. He’d been doing small performances at parks on weekends, rediscovering his love for being a magician. Kaito didn’t talk about it much, but with each new wave of arrests trickling in through their police contacts, he relaxed a bit more. One day he might actually feel safe again.

Aoko was on her way to a promotion lately between leading internal investigations and the positions opening up when corruption was found. Meanwhile Chikage seemed to be done traveling for the moment now that her goal of exposing the global level of the organization had been completed. There was a woman living with her who Saguru swore he remembered from a movie. Whoever she was, she made Kudo incredibly uncomfortable. Saguru hadn’t been able to get the story from him yet, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.

And Mel’s case was officially closed. With the documents Hiroto had found, they’d been able to track down the assassin and arrest him and quite a few others. There were still months of work left for the police, but for Saguru at least, everything he had hoped for had been reached. It was the closest he’d been to at peace in over a year.

Kaito tugged on their joined hands, pulling him toward the door. “Come on. Mum said we’re going to be decorating the Christmas cake next.”

“Oh dear.” That always meant the alcohol was going to come out and that baking was going to get significantly sloppier from there. He’d already decided that Mum’s Christmas cake was the only deviation from not allowing himself anything alcoholic that he would make, and even then it was more of an...acquired taste for people who hadn’t grown up with it.

“What all goes into a British Christmas cake anyway?”

“It’s nothing like the ones you have in Japan, that’s for sure. It’s a fruitcake for one, and a heavily alcoholic one at that.”

“You give that to children?”

“Not usually? Depends on the parents. I think we had sticky toffee pudding more when I was young, but Mum likes fruitcake and the alcohol bit was excused once I was a teenager.”

“Huh. Sounds different.”

“If you don’t like it, we won’t be offended.”

Kuroba shrugged. “Well, it’s rare I’ve met a drink I didn’t like, why not a cake?”

In the kitchen, Mum was making marzipan, the cake tin already opened up on one counter and most of the rest of the available flat surfaces covered with bowls of colored icing and armies of gingerbread men and tree-shaped biscuits. Takumi was squeezing blue icing on a small army of gingerbread men that were shaped suspiciously like Kaitou Kid. Mum had to behind that. They were too uniformly shaped to not be from a special pastry-cutter.

Surprisingly, Otou-san was there too, patiently decorating trees. It felt a bit surreal as he’d never been a part of Saguru and Mum’s baking rituals growing up, but maybe it was a recent thing since Mum moved in with him; the years she spent the holiday in Japan, Saguru hadn’t been there to bake with her.

“Good, you found him,” Mum said. “Saguru, wash up and give me a hand mixing up the frosting for the cake while I finish up the marzipan.”

Saguru obediently got to work.

“Question,” Takumi said as he watched Mum pause in her work to dribble a bit more brandy over the cake. “Do I get to have any of this cake?”

“That’s up to your father,” Mum said, plopping the marzipan onto the counter to roll.

“A small slice,” Kaito said. “And maybe one to take to your mother.”

“Cool.” Takumi held up one of the Kid biscuits. “So, what do you think? Did I get a good likeness?”

Kid’s caricature grin took up most of the head with a jaunty white-icing hat. Its hands had tiny dollops of icing in gem-bright colors like Kid had stolen the contents of someone’s jewelry box and made off into the night.

“Very funny,” Kaito said. He held up one of the ones he’d done earlier. It also had a caricature face, but it was much more precise and detailed. “I think mine has more dignity.”

“What dignity? Kid runs around in a suit like he was rejected from a wedding magazine.”

“You’re thinking of Tuxedo Mask.”

“Tuxedo Mask, Kaitou Kid, same difference.”

Kaito stuck out his tongue. Takumi stuck his out in return and deliberately drew a ridiculous face on the next one. Saguru’s father was clearly pretending he wasn’t hearing anything, as he had whenever Kid came up. Saguru loved his family.

“Both are all well and good,” Saguru said, joining in the spirit of it, “but they’re both a bit lacking in holiday cheer.” He took a bag of icing and decorated a Kid of his own. This wasn’t something he did often, but...it seemed he still had the touch. His Kid got a tiny sprig of holly in his hat, a red and green tie, and candy-cane striping for the hat band. As an afterthought, he added a white Father Christmas beard to the mix. “There, now this is a holiday Kid.”

“Now that just looks silly,” Kaito said.

“That’s the point.”

Takumi snickered. “Ok, if you made the suit _red_....”

“Nooooo,” Kaito groaned, “that would look even weirder. It’s not even Kid then.”

Takumi looked his father in the eye and squeezed a glob of red icing onto the next Kid-shaped biscuit.

“Saguru?” Mum said. He hurried over to help her lift the marzipan into place. She smoothed it with a practiced hand and gave him the bowl of icing. “Just between you and me,” she said, “I went a bit lighter on the brandy this year. Since we will be having a minor eat some.”

“I’m sure it’s appreciated.”

“And if anyone wants more alcohol it’s not like we don’t have more,” Mum said pragmatically. “It’s worth the good peach brandy.”

Saguru snorted; Mum did love an excuse to bring out good alcohol. While Saguru spread icing on the cake, Mum took the time to roll marzipan scraps into tiny shapes—cardinals that she would paint red, and a snowman that Saguru would add icing to, to make it more convincingly snowy. Mum hummed as she worked, Christmas carols that they both knew the tune for but always mixed up the words.

Saguru hummed along with her out of habit; the number of times they’d done this together had him falling into the pattern easily enough. Part of him half expected Mel to come out of nowhere with a tin of his grandmother’s toffee and singing the words to the songs Saguru and Mum never remembered. It was a bittersweet feeling, a mix of nostalgia and regret despite the warmth of the room and the people filling it, but when Kaito’s voice joined theirs, actually singing in smooth, practiced English, the feeling melted away.

Kaito grinned cheekily when Saguru looked his way. There was a smear of blue icing on his cheek and Takumi looked like he was recreating the Grinch story with Kid-shaped ginger biscuits hoarding all the gift shaped ones beside him. “I only know a few songs,” Kaito said when he finished to Mum’s applause. “So don’t expect me to sing that many.”

“I’m surprised you memorized any English Christmas songs at all.”

“Well they do play everywhere, even in Japan this time of year.”

Fair point.

“I should have put on music,” Mum said. “Then we could sing along.”

She always said that and they never remembered, too caught up in baking and making to think to put something on.

Takumi held up his phone. “I have you covered.”

Music filled the room and they went back to finishing their tasks. It wasn’t the same as years before; there was no Mel and Otou-san was there and there were more people. But it was just as warm and Saguru knew that this too would become a tradition. It was nice.

When Kaito pulled him away from smoothing the icing one last time to dance around the room just because they could, Saguru went with a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaah, and that's it, that's a wrap! T____T I hope everyone enjoyed the ride! It's been a lot of fun and it feels so weird to reach the end (mostly reach the end??) of such a long/large project. This fic's been half my life the last four years. I'm not going to know what to do with myself when I finish up the odds and ends of extras I have waiting for completion. (I don't know self, maybe work on ofic??? Or one of the other 20 some WIPs in your doc files?? Haha... ^_^;; ) But seriously, thanks for reading and I hope this is a satisfying stopping point for the main story. I have about 4...? Ish? extras that'll be done and posted at some point in the future and the prequel fic so this universe isn't quite done yet, but for the people who're mostly just following the main story, hope this leaves you with a warm feeling (I can't help shoving Saguru into baking scenarios. It gives me warm fuzzies, ok?)
> 
> For anyone interested, on my Tumblr I have a [masterpost](http://lisatelramor.tumblr.com/post/176929293471/not-left-to-stand-alone-master-post) for this fic with links to all the chapters and extra chapters in more or less chronological order and it'll be updated with the future extras too. (I'll also post any art for this universe there too when I finish what I'm working on. Inspiration for visual art is much more fickle than written word >_>;; )

**Author's Note:**

> Why a teacher? I can't remember my initial motives outside the ones written into Saguru's reasoning (which will come up later) but part of it was wanting to give Saguru an excuse to interact with Kaito's son and see Saguru in a mentor role. This fic, throughout its life as a word document, has been known simply as "saguru english teacher au" and some part of me remains amused by this. I'm going to try to update this every other week as that feels like a schedule I can make myself follow. *rolls up sleeves* First chapter's posted so I am doing this thing.


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